IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


ia;im  |2.5 

|50     *^™        IM^S 


1.25  lllju      1.6 

^ 

6"     

► 

m 


§ 


/I 


/. 


f 


%y 


> 


'/ 


/A 


Hiotographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


^> 


V 


V 


'^ 


\\ 


^ 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


■^ 


C/. 


^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/JCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The 
to  til 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


Couverture  endommagde 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


0   Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

rri    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  etait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t4  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquto  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul^es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe< 
Pages  d^colordes,  tachet6es  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplimentaire 

Only  editi'>n  available/ 
Seule  6ditiun  disponible 


I      I  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~|  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

|~~|  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I  Only  editi'>n  available/ 


The 
poss 
of  t^ 
filmi 


Orig 
begi 
the  I 
sion, 
othe 
first 
sion, 
or  ill 


The 
shall 
TINL 
whic 

Map) 
diffei 
entiri 
begir 
right 
requi 
meth 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuiliet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film^es  A  nouveau  de  faqon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu^  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


N^ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


lire 

details 
jes  du 
modifier 
}er  une 
filmage 


6ea 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thank* 
to  the  generosity  of: 

La  Bibiiothique  de  la  Villa  da  Montrtel 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exemplaire  filmi  fut  reproduit  grflce  A  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

La  BIbliothdque  de  la  Villa  da  Montreal 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  filmds  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ^>  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichd,  il  est  f  ilm6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  ia  mdthode. 


f  errata 
d  to 

It 

le  pelure, 

;on  d 


32X 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

1 


'■  This  is  tlic  forest  primeval."     p,m-,e  i. 


LT  '  •     ' 


.w  1  :> ;) 


LONGFELLOW'S  EVANGELINE 


IV/r//  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BY 


F.  O.  C.  DARl.EV 


BOSTON 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

New  York:   11  East  Seventeenth  Street 

Che  fiilJctsiDc  prcaai.  CanilJnflgt 

1883 


CnPYUifiliT,  i86<i. 
By   henry    WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 

CdrvuuMiT,  1S82, 
Hy    HOUGHTON,   MIIFLIN   &   COMPANY. 

/}//  iif;Ats  reserved. 


J  he  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  Sr  0>. 


t 


i' 

i-  \ 
t    i 
?! 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS, 


1. 
II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 


PAdK 

"7y//.f  is  the  forest  priiiiivar ... 

-'  '  hronlnpiece 

''Solemnly  down  the  sired  came  the  parish  priest,  ami  the  children 

Paused  in  their  play  to  h'ss  the  hand  he  extended  to  Hess  them  " 2 

"Doion  the  Ions;  street  she  passed,  luith  her  chaplet  0/  be<nls  and  her  missal" 4 

'•Farther  doivn,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  was  the  tcell" (, 

"  There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wonderinc;  eyes  to  behold  him  " x 

"i\'ow  commenced  the  reii^n  0/  rest  and  aff'ictioii  and  stillness" ,0 

"Meanivhile  apart,  in  the  ttiiilis^ht  Qloom  of  a  windows  embrasure  " 12 

"Throns^ed  were  the  streets  -with />eople ;  and  tioisy  j^ronps  at  the  house  doors" 14 

"Merrily,  merrily  zohirled  the  wheels  of  the  dizzying  dances  " ,5 

"  Without,  in  the  churchyard,  waited  the  women  " ,3 

"Came  from  the  neighboring  hamlets  and  farms  the  Acadian  women  " 20 

"There  disorder  prevailed,  and  the  tumult  and  stir  of  embarking" 22 

"Day  after  day  they  glided  adown  the  turbulent  river " 26 

"Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  <!■;  Ozark  Mountains" 38 

"When  they  had  reached  the  place,  they  foui,  i  only  embers  and  ashes" -.40 

"Meekly  she  bowed  her  own,  and  murmured,  'Father,  1  thank  thee!'" 48 


a 


EVANGELINE. 


tT:\ 


51  Cale  of  arauie. 

I  H I S  is  the  forest  primeval.    The  murmurinjr  pines  and  the  hemlocks. 
Bearded  with  moss,  and  in  garments  green,  inch'stinct  in  the  twilight. 
Stand  like  Druids  of  eld,  with  voices  sad  and  i)rophetic, 
Stand  like  harpers  hoar,  with  beards  that  rest  on  their  bosoms. 
Loutl  from  its  rocky  caverns,  the  deep-voiced  neighboring  ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of  the  forest. 

This  is  the  forest  primeval ;  but  where  are  the  hearts  that  beneath  it 
Leaped  like  the  roc,  when  he  hears  in  the  woodlantl  the  voice  of  the  huntsman  ? 
Where  is  the  thatch-roofed  village,  the  home  of  Acadian  farmers,— 
Men  whose  lives  glided  on  like  rivers  that  water  the  woodlands. 
Darkened  by  shadows  of  earth,  but  reflecting  an  image  of  heaven  ? 
Waste  are  those  pleasant  farms,  and  the  farmers  forever  departed ! 
Scattered  like  dust  and  leaves,  when  the  mighty  blasts  of  October 
Seize  them,  and  whirl  them  aloft,  and  sprinkle  them  far  o'er  the  ocean. 
Naught  but  tradition  remains  of  the  beautiful  village  of  Grand-Pre. 

Ye  who  believe  in  affection  that  hopes,  and  endures,  and  is  patient. 
Ye  who  believe  in  the  beauty  and  strength  of  woman's  devotion. 
List  to  the  mournful  tradition  still  sung  by  the  pines  of  the  forest ; 
List  to  a  Tale  of  Love  in  Acadie,  home  of  the  happy. 


Ji 


EVANGELINE. 


PART  THE   FIRST 


1. 

IN  the  Acadian  land  on  the  shores  of  the  Basin  of  Minas. 
Distant,  scchided,  still,  the  little  villaije  of  Grand-Prd 
.__    Lay  in  the  fruitful  Nalley.     Vast  meadows  stretched  to  the  eastward, 
Givinir  the  villairc  its  name,  and  pasture  tc.  Hocks  without  number. 
Dikes,  that  the  hands  of  the  farmers  had  raised  with  labor  mcessant. 
Shut  out  the  turbulent  tides  ;  but  at  stated  seasons  the  flood-gates 
Opened,  and  welcomed  the  sea  to  wander  at  will  oer  the  meadows 
West  and  south  there  were  fields  of  flax,  and  orchards  and  cornfields 
Spreading  afar  and  unfenced  o'er  the  plain  ;  and  away  to  the  northward 
Blomidon  rose,  and  the  forests  old.  and  aloft  on  the  mountams 
Sea-fo<Ts  pitched  their  tents,  and  mists  from  the  mighty  Atlantic 
Looked  on  the  happy  valley,  but  ne'er  from  their  station  descended. 
There,  in  the  midst  of  its  farms,  reposed  the  Acadian  village. 
Strongly  built  were  the  houses,  with  frames  of  oak  and  of  chestnut. 
Such  as  the  peasants  of  Normandy  built  in  the  reign  of  the  Henries. 
Thatched  were  the  roofs,  with  dormer-windows,  and  gables  projecting 
Over  the  basement  below  protected  and  shaded  the  door-way. 
There  in  the  tranquil  evenings  of  summer,  when  brightly  the  sunset 
Lighted  the  village  street,  and  gilded  the  vanes  on  the  chimneys. 
Matrons  and  maidens  sat  in  snow-white  caps  and  in  kirdes 
Scarlet  and  blue  and  green,  with  distaffs  spinning  the  golden 
Flax  for  the  gossiping  looms,  whose  noisy  shuttles  within  doors 
Mingled  their  sound  with  the  whir  of  the  wheels  and  the  songs  of  the  maidens. 
Solemnly  down  the  street  came  the  parish  priest,  and  the  children 


ird, 


lidens. 


Solemnly  clown  ine  street  came  the  parish  priest,  and  the  children 
Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  the  hand  he  extended  to  bless  them."     Page  2. 


■vf^^=li;^;i 


5^' 


••    ■;.■•^TC^»#"^T• 


.! 


1 


EVANGELINE. 
Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  the  hand  he  extended  to  bless  them. 
Reverend  walked  he  among  them  ;  and  up  rose  matrons  and  maidens, 
Hailing  his  slow  approach  with  words  of  affectionate  welcome. 
Then  came  the  laborers  home  from  the  field,  and  serenely  the  sun  sank 
Down  to  his  rest,  and  twilight  prevailed.     Anon  from  the  belfry 
Softly  the  Angelus  sounded,  and  over  the  roofs  of  the  village 
Columns  of  pale  blue  smoke,  like  clouds  of  incense  ascending. 
Rose  from  a  hundred  hearths,  the  homes  of  peace  and  contentment. 
Thus  dwelt  together  in  love  these  simple  Acadian  farmers,  — 
Dwelt  in  the  love  of  God  and  of  man.     Alike  were  they  free  from 
Fear,  that  reigns  with  the  tyrant,  and  envy,  the  vice  of  republics. 
Neither  locks  had  they  to  their  doors,  nor  bars  to  their  windows; 
But  their  dwellings  were  open  as  day  and  the  hearts  of  the  owners; 
There  the  richest  was  poor,  and  the  poorest  lived  in  abundance. 

Somewhat  apart  from  the  village,  and  nearer  the  Basin  of  Minas, 

Benedict  Bellefontaine,  the  wealthiest  farmer  of  Grand-Pre', 

Dwelt  on  his  goodly  acres ;  and  with  him,  directing  his  household, 

Gentle  Evangeline  lived,  his  child,  and  the  pride  of  the  village. 

Stalworth  and  stately  in  form  was  the  man  of  seventy  winters ; 

Hearty  and  hale  was  he,  an  oak  that  is  covered  with  snow-flakes; 

White  as  the  snow  were  his  locks,  and  his  cheeks  as  brown  as  the  oak-leaves. 

Fair  was  she  to  behold,  that  maiden  of  seventeen  summers. 

Black  were  her  eyes  as  the  berry  that  grows  on  the  thorn  by  the  wayside. 

Black,  yet  how  softly  they  gleamed  beneath  the  brown  shade  of  her  tresses ! 

Sweet  was  her  breath  as  the  breath  of  kine  that  feed  in  the  meadows. 

When  in  the  harvest  heat  she  bore  to  the  reapers  at  noontide 

Flagons  of  home-brewed  ale,  ah !  fair  in  sooth  was  the  maiden. 

Fairer  was  she  when,  on  Sunday  morn,  while  the  bell  from  its  turret 

Sprinkled  with  holy  sounds  the  air,  as  the  priest  with  his  hyssop 

Sprinkles  the  congregation,  and  scatters  blessings  upon  them, 


EVANGELINE. 
4 

Down  the  long  street  she  passed,  with  her  chaplet  of  beads  and  her  missal, 
Wearing  her  Norman  cap,  and  her  kirtle  of  blue,  and  the  ear-rings, 
Brought  in  the  olden  time  from  France,  and  since,  as  an  heirloom, 
Handed  down  from  mother  to  child,  through  long  generations. 
But  a  celestial  brightness  —  a  more  ethereal  beauty  — 
Shone  on  her  face  and  encircled  her  form,  when,  after  confession. 
Homeward  serenely  she  walked  with  God's  benediction  upon  her. 
When  she  had  passed,  it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of  exquisite  music. 

Firmly  builded  with  rafters  of  oak,  the  house  of  the  farmer 
Stood  on  the  side  of  a  hill  commanding  the  sea;  and  a  shady 
Sycamore  grew  by  the  door,  with  a  woodbine  wreathing  around  it. 
Rudely  carved  was  the  porch,  with  scats  beneath ;  and  a  footpath 
Led  through  an  orchard  wide,  and  disappeared  in  the  meadow. 
Under  the  sycamore-tree  were  hives  overhung  by  a  penthouse. 
Such  as  the  traveller  sees  in  regions  remote  by  the  roadside, 
Built  o'er  a  box  for  the  poor,  or  the  blessed  image  of  Mary. 
Farther  down,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well  with  its  moss-grown 
Bucket,  fastened  with  iron,  and  near  it  a  trough  for  the  horses. 
Shieldino-  the  house  from  storms,  on  the  north,  were  the  barns  and  the  farm- 

yard  ; 
There  stood  the  broad-wheeled  wains  and  the  antique  ploughs  and  the  harrows ; 
There  were  the  folds  for  the  sheep ;  and  there,  in  his  feathered  seraglio, 
Strutted  the  lordly  turkey,  and  crowed  the  cock,  with  the  selfsame 
Voice  that  in  ages  of  old  had  startled  the  penitent  Peter. 
Bursting  with  hay  were  the  barns,  themselves  a  village.     In  each  one 
Far  o'er  the  gable  projected  a  roof  of  thatch ;  and  a  staircase. 
Under  the  sheltering  eaves,  led  w^  to  the  odorous  corn-loft. 
There  too  the  dove-cot  stood,  with  its  meek  and  innocent  inmates 
Murmuring  ever  of  love ;  while  above  in  the  variant  breezes 
Numberless  noisy  weathercocks  rattled  and  sang  of  mutation. 


il, 


the  farm- 


larrows ; 


Down  the  long  street  she  passed,  with  her  chaplet  of  beads  and  her  missal. "     Paof.  4. 


I 


I'    ! 


i    \     ! 


t^^^ 


'■:i  ■ 

J  I. 


i    !| 


4 ! :  ^ 


EVANGELINE. 

Thus,  at  peace  with  God  and  the  world,  the  farmer  of  Grand-Prd 
Lived  on  his  sunny  farm,  and  Evangeline  governed  his  household. 
Many  a  youth,  as  he  knelt  in  the  church  and  opened  his  missal, 
Fixed  his  eyes  u[)on  her,  as  the  saint  of  his  (lee[)est  devotion  ; 
Happy  was  he  who  might  touch  her  hand  or  the  hem  of  her  garment ! 
Many  a  suitor  came  to  her  door,  by  the  darkness  befriended, 
And,  as  he  knocked  and  waited  to  hear  the  sound  of  her  footsteps. 
Knew  not  which  beat  the  louder,  his  heart  or  the  knocker  of  iron  ; 
Or  at  the  joyous  feast  of  the  Patron  Saint  of  the  village, 
Bolder  grew,  and  pressed  her  hand  in  the  dance  as  he  whispered 
Hurried  words  of  love,  that  seemed  a  part  of  the  music. 
But,  among  all  who  came,  young  Gabriel  only  was  welcome ; 
Gabriel  Lajeunesse,  the  son  of  Basil    'rj  blacksmith, 
Who  was  a  mighty  man  in  the  village,  a,   1  honored  of  all  men ; 
For,  since  the  birth  of  time,  throughout  all  ages  and  nations, 
Has  the  craft  of  the  smith  been  held  in  repute  by  the  people. 
Basil  was  Benedict's  friend.     Their  children  from  earliest  childhood 
Grew  up  together  as  brother  and  sister;  and  Father  Felician, 
Priest  and  pedagogue  both  in  the  village,  had  taught  them  their  letters 
Out  of  the  selfsame  book,  with  the  hymns  of  the  church  and  the  plain-song. 
But  when  the  hymn  was  sung,  and  the  daily  lesson  completed, 
Swiftly  they  hurried  away  to  the  forge  of  Basil  the  blacksmith. 
There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to  behold  him 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a  plaything, 
Nading  the  shoe  in  its  place ;  while  near  him  the  tire  of  the  cart-wheel 
Lay  like  a  fiery  snake,  coiled  round  in  a  circle  of  cinders. 
Oft  on  autumnal  eves,  when  without  in  the  gathering  darkness 
Bursting  with  light  seemed  the  smithy,  through  every  cranny  and  crevice, 
Warm  by  the  forge  within  they  watched  the  laboring  bellows, 
And  as  its  panting  ceased,  and  the  sparks  expired  in  the  ashes, 
Merrily  laughed,  and  said  they  were  nuns  going  into  the  chapel. 


EVANGELINE. 

Oft  on  sledges  in  winter,  as  swift  as  the  swoop  of  the  eagle, 
Down  the  hillside  bounding,  they  glided  away  o'er  the  meadow. 
Oft  in  the  barns  they  climbed  to  the  populous  nests  on  the  rafters, 
Seeking  with  eager  eyes  tliat  wondrous  stone,  which  the  swallow 
Brings  from  the  shore  of  the  sea  to  restore  the  sight  of  its  llcdglings; 
Lucky  was  he  who  found  that  stone  in  the  nest  of  the  swallow  ! 
Thus  passed  a  few  swift  years,  and  they  no  longer  were  children. 
He  was  a  valiant  youth,  and  his  face,  like  the  face  of  the  morning. 
Gladdened  the  earth  with  its  light,  and  ripened  thought  into  action. 
She  was  a  woman  now,  with  the  heart  and  hopes  of  a  woman. 
"  Sunshine  of  Saint  Eulalic  "  was  she  called ;  for  that  was  the  sunshine 
Which,  as  the  farmers  believed,  would  load  their  orchards  with  apples; 
She,  too,  would  bring  to  her  husband's  house  delight  and  abundance, 
Filling  it  full  of  love  and  the  ruddy  faces  of  children. 

II. 

Now  had  the  season  returned,  when  the  nights  grow  colder  and  longer, 

And  the  retreating  sun  the  sign  of  the  Scorpion  enters. 

Birds  of  passage  sailed  through  the  leaden  air,  from  the  ice-bound. 

Desolate  northern  bays  to  the  shores  of  tropical  islands. 

Harvests  were  gathered  in ;  and  wild  with  the  winds  of  September 

Wrestled  the  trees  of  the  forest,  as  Jacob  of  old  with  the  angel. 

All  the  signs  foretold  a  winter  long  and  inclement. 

Bees,  with  prophetic  instinct  of  want,  had  hoarded  their  honey 

Till  the  hives  overflowed;  and  the  Indian  hunters  asserted 

Cold  would  the  winter  be,  for  thick  was  the  fur  of  the  foxes. 

Such  was  the  advent  of  autumn.     Then  followed  that  beautiful  season, 

Called  by  the  pious  Acadian  peasants  the  Summer  of  All-Saints  ! 

Filled  was  the  air  with  a  dreamy  and  magical  light;  and  the  landscape 

Lay  as  if  new  created  in  all  the  freshness  of  childhood. 

Peace  seemed  to  reign  upon  earth,  and  the  restless  heart  of  the  ocean 


I  1 


V 


l'',iitlicr  ilowii,  oil  iIk'  slopi.'  of  tlu'  hill  w.l.'^  tlu'  well  Willi  iu  moss-i;n)wii 
liiickut,  la>lciictl  with  imii,  ami  iie.ir  it  .i  liiiiii;li  l'"i-  tla'  liorscs."  I'>.,k  j. 


i 


A 


I 


'inif    rii'  ■ 


-^  f  rsT. 


g^ 


v;  ■  ■  V 


;•■ ' 


EVANGELINE. 

Was  for  a  moment  consoled.     All  sounds  were  in  harmony  blended. 
Voices  of  children  at  play,  the  crowing  of  cocks  in  the  farm-yards, 
Whir  of  wings  in  the  drowsy  air,  and  the  cooing  of  pigeons, 
All  were  subdued  and  low  as  the  murmurs  of  love,  and  the  great  sun 
Looked  with  the  eye  of  love  through  the  golden  vapors  around  him ; 
While  arrayed  in  its  robes  of  russet  and  scarlet  and  yellow, 
Bright  with  the  sheen  of  the  dew,  each  glittering  tree  of  the  forest 
Flashed  like  the  plane-tree  the  Persian  adorned  with  mantles  and  jewels. 


Now  recommenced  the  reign  of  rest  and  affection  and  stillness. 
Day  with  its  burden  and  heat  had  departed,  and  twilight  descending 
Brought  back  the  evening  star  to  the  sky,  and  the  herds  to  the  homestead. 
Pawing  the  ground  they  came,  and  resting  their  necks  on  each  other, 
And  with  their  nostrils  distended  inhaling  the  freshness  of  evening. 
Foremost,  bearing  the  bell,  Evangeline's  beautiful  heifer, 
Proud  of  her  snow-white  hide,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved  from  her  collar, 
Quietly  paced  and  slow,  as  if  conscious  of  human  affection. 
Then  came  the  shepherd  back  with  his  bleating  flocks  from  the  seaside. 
Where  was  their  favorite  pasture.     Behind  them  followed  the  watch-dog, 
Patient,  full  of  importance,  and  grand  in  the  pride  of  his  instinct, 
Walking  from  side  to  side  with  a  lordly  air,  and  superbly 
Waving  his  bushy  tail,  and  urging  forward  the  stragglers ; 
Regent  of  flocks  was  he  when  the  shepherd  slept ;  their  protector. 
When  from  the  forest  at  night,  through  the  starry  silence,  the  wolves  howled. 
Late,  with  the  rising  moon,  returned  the  wains  from  the  marshes, 
Laden  with  briny  hay,  that  filled  the  air  with  its  odor. 
Cheerily  neighed  the  steeds,  with  dew  on  their  manes  and  their  fedocks, 
While  aloft  on  their  shoulders  the  wooden  and  ponderous  saddles, 
Painted  with  brilliant  dyes,  and  adorned  with  tassels  of  crimson, 
Nodded  in  bright  array,  like  hollyhocks  heavy  with  blossoms. 
Patiently  stood  the  cows  meanwhile,  and  yielded  their  udders 


:« 


' 


8  EVANGELINE. 

Unto  the  milkmaid's  hand ;  whilst  loud  and  in  regular  cadence  • 
Into  the  sounding  pails  the  foaming  streamlets  descended. 
Lowing  of  cattle  and  peals  of  laughter  were  heard  in  the  farm-yard, 
Echoed  back  by  the  barns.     Anon  they  sank  into  stillness ; 
Heavily  closed,  with  a  jarring  sound,  the  valves  of  the  barn-doors, 
Rattled  the  wooden  bars,  and  all  for  a  season  was  silent. 


\ 


■^ 


In-doors,  warm  by  the  wide-mouthed  fire-place,  idly  the  farmer 
Sat  in  his  elbow-chair,  and  watched  how  the  flames  and  the  smoke-wreaths 
Struggled  together  like  foes  in  a  burning  city.      Behind  him. 
Nodding  and  mocking  along  the  wall,  with  gestures  fantastic, 
Darted  his  own  huge  shadow,  and  vanished  away  into  darkness. 
Faces,  clumsily  carved  in  oak,  on  the  back  of  his  arm-chair 
Laughed  in  the  flickering  light,  and  the  pewter  plates  on  the  dresser 
Cauoht  and  reflected  the  flame,  as  shields  of  armies  the  sunshine. 
Fragments  of  song  the  old  man  sang,  and  carols  of  Christmas, 
Such  as  at  home,  in  the  olden  time,  his  fathers  before  him 
Sang  in  their  Norman  orchards  and  bright  Burgundian  vineyards. 
Close  at  her  father's  side  was  the  gentle  Evangeline  seated, 
Spinning  flax  for  the  loom,  that  stood  in  the  corner  behind  her. 
Silent  awhile  were  its  treadles,  at  rest  was  its  diligent  shuttle. 
While  the  monotonous  drone  of  the  wheel,  like  the  drone  of  a  bagpipe, 
Followed  the  old  man's  song,  and  united  the  fragments  together. 
As  in  a  church,  when  the  chant  of  the  choir  at  intervals  ceases. 
Footfalls  are  heard  in  the  aisles,  or  words  of  the  priest  at  the  altar, 
So,  in  each  pause  of  the  song,  with  measured  motion  the  clock  clicked. 


-11 


-,5 


Thus  as  they  sat,  there  were  footsteps  heard,  and,  suddenly  lifted, 
Sounded  the  wooden  latch,  and  the  door  swung  back  on  its  hinges. 
Benedict  knew  by  the  hob-nailed  shoes  it  was  Basil  the  blacksmith, 
And  by  her  beating  heart  Evangeline  knew  who  was  with  him. 


'\ 


Thcic  at  tlie  tloor  tlicy  stood,  witli  \voiKlt.Ting  eyes  to  behold  liiin 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  lioise  as  a  [jlaythiiig."     I'ach-;  5. 


i 


i 


1 


EVANGELINE.  9 

"  Welcome ! "  the  farmer  exclaimed,  as  their  footsteps  paused  on  the  threshold. 

"  Welcome,  Basil,  my  friend  !     Come,  take  thy  place  on  the  settle 

Close  by  the  chimney-side,  which  is  always  empty  without  thee  ; 

Take  from  the  shelf  overhead  thy  pipe  and  the  box  of  tobacco  ; 

Never  so  much  thyself  art  thou  as  when  throucrh  the  curline 

Smoke  of  the  pipe  or  the  forge  thy  friendly  and  jovial  face  gleams 

Round  and  red  as  the  harvest  moon  through  the  mist  of  the  marshes." 

Then,  with  a  smile  of  content,  thus  answered  Basil  the  blacksmith, 

Taking  with  easy  air  the  accustomed  scat  by  the  fireside :  — 

"  Benedict  Bellefontaine,  thou  hast  ever  thy  jest  and  thy  ballad ! 

Ever  in  cheerfullest  mood  art  thou,  when  others  are  filled  with 

Gloomy  forebodings  of  ill,  and  see  only  ruin  before  them. 

Happy  art  thou,  as  if  every  day  thou  hadst  picked  up  a  horseshoe." 

Pausing  a  moment,  to  take  the  pipe  that  Evangeline  brought  him. 

And  with  a  coal  from  the  embers  had  lighted,  he  slowly  continued  :  — 

"  Four  days  now  are  passed  since  the  English  ships  at  their  anchors 

Ride  in  the  Gaspereau's  mouth,  with  their  cannon  pointed  Against  us. 

What  their  design  may  be  is  unknown  ;  but  all  are  commanded 

On  the  morrow  to  meet  in  the  church,  where  his  Majesty's  mandate 

Will  be  proclaimed  as  law  in  the  land.     Alas  !  in  the  mean  time 

Many  surmises  of  evil  alarm  the  hearts  of  the  people." 

Then  made  answer  the  farmer  :  —  "  Perhaps  some  friendlier  purpose 

Brings  these  ships  to  our  shores.     Perhaps  the  harvests  in  England 

By  untimely  rains  or  untimelier  heat  have  been  blighted. 

And  from  our  bursting  barns  they  would  feed  their  cattle  and  children." 

"  Not  so  thinketh  the  folk  in  the  village,"  said,  warmly,  the  blacksmith. 

Shaking  his  head,  as  in  doubt ;  then,  heaving  a  sigh,  he  continued  :  — • 

"  Louisburg  is  not  forgotten,  nor  Beau  Sejour,  nor  Port  Royal. 

Many  already  have  fled  to  the  forest,  and  lurk  on  its  outskirts, 

Waiting  with  anxious  hearts  the  dubious  fate  of  to-morrow. 

Arms  have  been  taken  from  us,  and  warlike  weapons  of  all  kinds ; 


lO  EVANGELINE. 

Nothing  is  left  but  the  blacksmith's  sledge  and  the  scythe  of  the  mower." 

Then  with  a  pleasant  smile  made  answer  the  jovial  farmer:  — 

"  Safer  are  we  unarmed,  in  the  mitlst  of  our  flocks  and  our  cornfields, 

Safer  within  these  peaceful  dikes,  besieged  by  the  ocean, 

Than  our  fathers  in  forts,  besieged  by  the  enemy's  cannon. 

Fear  no  evil,  my  friend,  antl  to-night  may  no  shadow  of  sorrow 

Fall  on  this  house  and  hearth  ;  for  this  is  the  night  of  the  contract. 

Built  are  the  house  and  the  barn.     The  merry  lads  of  the  village 

Strongly  have  built  them  and  well  ;  and,  breaking  the  glebe  round  about  them. 

Filled  the  barn  with  hay,  and  the  house  with  food  for  a  twelvemonth. 

Ren6  Lcblanc  will  be  here  anon,  with  his  papers  and  inkhorn. 

Shall  we  not  then  be  glad,  and  rejoice  in  the  joy  of  our  children  ?  " 

As  apart  by  the  window  she  stood,  with  her  hand  in  her  lover's, 

Blushing  Evangeline  heard  the  words  that  her  father  had  spoken, 

And,  as  they  died  on  his  lips,  the  worthy  notary  entered. 

III. 

Bp:nt  like  a  laboring  oar,  that  toils  in  the  surf  of  the  ocean, 

Bent,  but  not  broken,  by  age  was  the  form  of  the  notary  public  ; 

Shocks  of  yellow  hair,  like  the  silken  floss  of  the  maize,  hung 

Over  his  shoulders ;  his  forehead  was  high ;  and  glasses  with  horn  bows 

Sat  astride  on  his  nose,  with  a  look  of  wisdom  supernal. 

r\ither  of  twenty  children  was  he,  and  more  than  a  hundred 

Children's  children  rode  on  his  knee,  and  heard  his  great  watch  tick. 

Four  long  years  in  the  times  of  the  war  had  he  languished  a  captive, 

Suffering  much  in  an  old  French  fort  as  the  friend  of  the  English. 

Now,  though  warier  grown,  without  all  guile  or  suspicion, 

Ripe  in  wisdom  was  he,  but  patient,  and  simple,  and  childlike. 

He  was  beloved  by  all,  and  most  of  all  by  the  children  ; 

For  he  told  them  talcs  of  the  Loup-garou  in  the  forest. 

And  of  the  goblin  that  came  in  the  night  to  water  the  horses, 


/er. 


)out  them. 


)OVVS 


Now  recommenced  the  reign  of  rest  and  nlVection  and  stillness. 

Day  with  its  burden  and  heat  had  departed,  and  twilight  descending 

Brought  back  the  evening  star  to  the  sky,  and  the  herds  to  the  homestead."     1'a.;i..  7. 


■1 


EVA  NGIi  LINE. 


1 1 


I 


And  of  the  white  Lctichc,  the  ghost  of  a  child  who  unchristencd 

Died,  and  was  doomed  to  haunt  unseen  the  chambers  of  children  ; 

And  how  on  Christmas  eve  the  oxen  talked  in  the  stable, 

And  how  the  fever  was  cured  hy  a  spider  shut  u[)  in  a  nutshell, 

And  of  the  marvellous  powers  of  four-leaved  clover  and  horseshoes, 

With  whatsoever  else  was  writ  in  the  lore  of  the  village. 

Then  up  rose  from  his  seat  hy  the  fireside  Hasil  the  blacksmith, 

Knocked  from  his  jiipe  the  ashes,  and  slowly  extending  his  right  iiand, 

"  Father  Leblanc,"  he  exclaimed,  "thou  hast  heard  the  talk  in  the  vill.ige, 

And,  perchance,  canst  tell  us  some  news  of  these  ships  and  their  errand. " 

Then  with  modest  demeanor  maile  answer  the  notary  public, — 

"Gossip  enough  have  I  heard,  in  sooth,  yet  am  never  the  wiser; 

And  what  their  errand  may  be  I  know  not  better  than  others. 

Yet  am  I  not  of  those  who  imagine  some  evil  intention 

Brings  them  here,  for  we  are  at  peace ;  and  why  then  molest  us  ? " 

"  God's  name  ! "  shouted  the  hasty  and  somewhat  irascible  blacksmith  ; 

"Must  we  in  all  things  look  for  the  how,  and  the  why,  and  the  wherefore? 

Daily  injustice  is  done,  and  might  is  the  right  of  the  strongest !  " 

But,  without  heeding  his  warmth,  continued  the  notary  public, — 

"Man  is  unjust,  but  God  is  just;  and  finally  justice 

Triumphs ;  and  well  I  remember  a  story,  that  often  consoled  me. 

When  as  a  captive  I  lay  in  the  old  French  fort  at  Port  Royal." 

This  was  the  old  man's  favorite  talc,  and  he  loved  to  repeat  it 

When  his  neighbors  complained  that  any  injustice  was  done  them. 

"  Once  in  an  ancient  city,  whose  name  I  no  longer  remember, 

Raised  aloft  on  a  column,  a  brazen  statue  of  Justice 

Stood  in  the  public  square,  upholding  the  scales  in  its  left  hand. 

And  in  its  right  a  sword,  as  an  emblem  that  justice  presided 

Over  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  the  hearts  and  homes  of  the  people. 

Even  the  birds  had  built  their  nests  in  the  scales  of  the  balance. 

Having  no  fear  of  the  sword  that  flashed  in  the  sunshine  above  them. 


12  EVANGELINE. 

But  in  the  course  of  time  the  laws  of  the  land  were  corrupted  ; 

Might  took  the  place  of  right,  and  the  w^  .k  were  oppressed,  and  the  mighty 

Ruled  with  an  iron  rod.     Then  it  chanced  in  a  nobleman's  palace 

That  a  necklace  of  pearls  was  lost,  and  erelong  a  suspicion 

Fell  on  an  orphan  girl  who  lived  as  maid  in  the  household. 

She,  after  form  of  trial  condemned  to  die  on  the  scaffold. 

Patiently  met  her  doom  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Justice. 

As  to  her  Father  in  heaven  her  innocent  spirit  ascended, 

Lo !  o'er  the  city  a  tempest  rose ;  and  the  bolts  of  the  thunder 

Smote  the  statue  of  bronze,  and  hurled  in  wrath  from  its  left  hand 

Down  on  the  pavement  below  the  clattering  scales  of  the  balance, 

And  in  the  hollow  thereof  was  found  the  nest  of  a  magpie. 

Into  whose  clay-built  walls  the  necklace  of  pearls  was  inwoven." 

Silenced,  but  not  convinced,  when  the  story  was  ended,  the  blacksmith 

Stood  like  a  man  who  fain  would  speak,  but  findeth  no  language; 

All  his  thoughts  were  congealed  into  lines  on  his  face,  as  the  vapors 

Freeze  in  fantastic  shapes  on  the  window-panes  in  the  winter. 


Then  Evangeline  lighted  the  brazen  lamp  on  the  table, 
Filled,  till  it  overflowed,  the  pewter  tankard  with  home-brewed 
Nut-brown  ale,  that  was  famed  for  its  strength  in  the  village  of  Grand-Prd ; 
While  from  his  pocket  the  notary  drew  his  papers  and  inkhorn, 
Wrote  with  a  steady  hand  the  date  and  the  age  of  the  parties. 
Naming  the  dower  of  the  bride  in  flocks  of  sheep  and  in  cattle. 
Orderly  all  things  proceeded,  and  duly  and  well  were  completed, 
And  the  great  seal  of  the  law  was  set  like  a  sun  on  the  margin. 
Then  from  his  leathern  pouch  the  farmer  threw  on  the  table 
Three  times  the  old  man's  fee  in  solid  pieces  of  silver; 
And  the  notary  rising,  and  blessing  the  bride  and  the  bridegroom, 
Lifted  aloft  the  tankard  of  ale  and  drank  to  their  welfare. 
Wiping  the  foam  from  his  lip,  he  solemnly  bowed  and  departed, 


\i:ai\ 


>: 


3 


i 


■  Meanwhile  apart,  in  the  twilight  gloom  of  a  window's  embrasure, 
Sat  the  lovers,  and  whispered  together."  Pace  13. 


■I 


i  i-  -. 


i 


i' 

I 


.; 
^ 


,-; 


i      \ 


m 


% 
M 

1 

I 


M 


1 


i 


■•! 


EVANGELINE. 

While  in  silence  the  others  sat  and  mused  by  the  fireside, 

Till  Evangeline  brought  the  draught-board  out  of  its  corner. 

Soon  was  the  game  begun.     In  friendly  contention  the  old  men 

Laughed  at  each  lucky  hit,  or  unsuccessful  manreuvre. 

Laughed  when  a  man  was  crowned,  or  a  breach  was  made  in  the  king-row. 

Meanwhile  apart,  in  the  twilight  gloom  of  a  window's  embrasure, 

.Sat  the  lovers,  and  whispered  together,  beholding  the  moon  rise 

Over  the  pallid  sea  and  the  silvery  mist  of  the  meadows. 

Silently  one  by  one,  in  the  infinite  meadows  of  heaven, 

Blossomed  the  lovely  stars,  the  forget-me-nots  of  the  angels. 


U 


I 


Thus  was  the  evening  passed.     Anon  the  bell  from  the  belfry 
Rang  out  the  hour  of  nine,  the  village  curfew,  and  straightway 
Rose  the  guests  and- departed  ;  and  silence  reigned  in  the  household. 
Many  a  farewell  word  and  sweet  good-night  on  the  door-step 
Lingered  long  in  Evangeline's  heart,  and  filled  it  with  gladness. 
Carefully  then  were  covered  the  embers  that  glowed  on  the  hearth-stone, 
And  on  the  oaken  stairs  resounded  the  tread  of  the  farmer. 
Soon  with  a  soundless  step  the  foot  of  Evangeline  followed. 
Up  the  staircase  moved  a  luminous  space  in  the  darkness, 
Lighted  less  by  the  lamp  than  the  shining  face  of  the  maiden. 
Silently  she  passed  the  hall,  and  entered  the  door  of  her  chamber. 
Simple  that  chamber  was,  with  its  curtains  ot  white,  and  its  clothes-press 
Ample  and  high,  on  whose  spacious  shelves  were  carefully  folded 
Linen  and  woollen  stuffs,  by  the  hand  of  Evangeline  woven. 
1  his  was  the  precious  dower  she  would  bring  to  her  husband  in  marriage. 
Better  than  flocks  and  herds,  being  proofs  of  her  skill  as  a  housewife. 
Soon  she  extinguished  her  lamp,  for  the  mellow  and  radiant  moonlight 
Streamed   through  the  windows,  and   lighted   the  room,   till   the  heart  of  the 

maiden 
Swelled  and  obeyed  its  power,  like  the  tremulous  tides  of  the  ocean. 


■I 

'i 


H 


EVANGELINE. 

Ah !  she  was  fair,  exceeding  fair  to  behold,  as  she  stood  with 

Naked  snow-white  feet  on  the  gleaming  floor  of  her  chamber ! 

Little  she  dreamed  that  below,  among  the  trees  of  the  orchard, 

Waited  her  lover  and  watched  for  the  gleam  of  her  lamp  and  her  shadow. 

Yet  were  her  thoughts  of  him,  and  at  times  a  feeling  of  sadness 

Passed  o'er  her  soul,  as  the  sailing  shade  of  clouds  in  the  moonlight 

Flitted  across  the  floor  and  darkened  the  room  for  a  moment. 

And,  as  she  gazed  from  the  window,  she  saw  serenely  the  moon  pass 

Forth  from  the  folds  of  a  cloud,  and  one  star  follow  her  footsteps, 

As  out  of  Abraham's  tent  young  Ishmael  wandered  with  Hagarl 


I    ; 


IV. 

Pleasantly  rose  next  morn  the  sun  on  the  village  of  Grand-Prd 

Pleasantly  gleamed  in  the  soft,  sweet  air  the  Basin  of  Minas, 

Where  the  ships,  with  their  wavering  shadows,  were  riding  at  anchor. 

Life  had  long  been  astir  in  the  village,  and  clamorous  labor 

Knocked  with  its  hundred  hands  at  the  golden  gates  of  the  morning. 

Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and  neighboring  hamlets, 

Came  in  their  holiday  dresses  the  blithe  Acadian  peasants. 

Many  a  glad  good-morrow  and  jocund  laugh  from  the  young  folk 

Made  the  bright  air  brighter,  as  up  from  the  numerous  meadows, 

Where  no  path  could  be  seen  but  the  track  of  wheels  in  the  greensward, 

Group  after  group  appeared,  and  joined,  or  passed  on  the  highway. 

Lone:  ere  noon,  in  the  village  all  sounds  of  labor  were  silenced. 

Thronged  were  the  streets  with  people ;  and  noisy  groups  at  the  house-doors 

Sat  in  the  cheerful  sun,  and  rejoiced  and  gossiped  together. 

Every  house  was  an  inn,  where  all  were  welcomed  and  feasted ; 

For  with  this  simple  people,  who  lived  like  brothers  together. 

All  things  were  held  in  common,  and  what  one  had  was  another's. 

Yet  under  Benedict's  roof  hospitality  seemed  more  abundant: 

For  Evangeline  stood  among  the  guests  of  her  father; 


dow. 


ets, 


ard, 


se-doors 


■  riiroiigod  were  the  streets  with  people ;  and  noisy  groups  at  the  house-doors 
Sat  ill  tile  ciieeri'ul  si'.n,  and  rejoiced  and  gossi|)ed  togetiier. 
Every  house  was  an  inn,  wiiere  all  were  weleonied  and  feasted."  I'auk  14. 


'•S 


I 


EV/tNGELINE. 

Bright  was  her  face  with  smiles,  and  words  of  welcome  and  trladncss 
Fell  from  her  beautiful  lips,  and  blessed  the  cup  as  she  jrave  it. 

Under  the  open  sky,  in  the  odorous  air  of  the  orchard, 
Stript  of  its  golden  fruit,  was  spread  the  feast  of  betrothal. 
There  in  the  shade  of  the  porch  were  the  priest  and  the  notary  seated; 
There  good  Benedict  sat,  and  sturdy  Basil  the  blacksmith. 
Not  far  withdrawn  from  these,  by  the  cider-press  and  the  beehives, 
Michael  the  fiddler  was  placed,  with  the  gayest  of  hearts  and  of  waistcoats. 
Shadow  and  light  from  the  leaves  alternately  played  on  his  snow-white 
Hair,  as  it  waved  in  the  wind  ;  and  the  jolly  face  of  the  fiddler 
Glowed  like  a  living  coal  when  the  ashes  are  blown  from  the  embers. 
Gayly  the  old  man  sang  to  the  vibrant  sound  of  his  fiddle. 
Tons  les  Bourgeois  dc  Chartrcs,  and  Le  Carillon  de  Dtinkcrque, 
And  anon  with  his  wooden  shoes  beat  time  to  the  music. 
Merrily,  merrily  whirled  the  wheels  of  the  dizzying  dances 
Under  the  orchard-trees  and  down  the  path  to  the  meadows ; 
Old  folk  and  young  together,  and  children  mingled  among  them. 
Fairest  of  all  the  maids  was  Evangeline,  Benedict's  daughter! 
Noblest  of  all  the  youths  was  Gabriel,  son  of  the  blacksmith ! 

So  passed  the  morning  away.     And  lo !  with  a  summons  sonorous 
Sounded  the  bell  from  its  tower,  and  over  the  meadows  a  drum  beat. 
Thronged  erelong  was  the  church  with  men.     Without,  in  the  churchyard, 
Waited  the  women.     They  stood  by  the  graves,  and  hung  on  the  headstones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from  the  forest. 
Then  came  the  guard  from  the  ships,  and  marching  proudly  among  them 
Entered  the  sacred  portal.     With  loud  and  dissonant  clangor 

Echoed  the  sound  of  their  brazen  drums  from  ceiling  and  casement, 

Echoed  a  moment  only,  and  slowly  the  ponderous  portal 
Closed,  and  in  silence  the  crowd  awaited  the  will  of  the  soldiers. 


IS 


|6 


EVANGELINE. 


i^  ! 


4     I  : 


Then  uprose  their  commander,  and  spake  from  the  steps  of  the  altar, 

Hol(lin,ii  aloft  in  his  hands,  with  its  seals,  the  royal  commission. 

"You  arc  convened  this  d.iy,"  lie  said.  "  hy  his  Majesty's  orders. 

Clement  and  kinil  has  he  been;  hut  how  you  h.ive  answered  his  kindness, 

Let  your  own  hearts  reply  !     To  my  natural  make  and  my  temper 

Painful  the  task  is  I  do,  which  to  you  I  know  must  he  j^rievous. 

Yet  must  I  bow  and  obey,  and  deliver  the  will  of  our  monarch; 

Namely,  that  all  your  lands,  and  dwellings,  and  cattle  of  all  kinds 

Forfeited  be  to  the  crown  ;  and  that  you  yourselves  from  this  province 

Be  transported  to  other  lands.     God  grant  you  may  dwell  there 

Ever  as  faithful  subjects,  a  hapjjy  and  peaceable  people! 

Prisoners  now  I  declare  you  ;  for  such  is  his  Majesty's  pleasure  !" 

As,  when  the  air  is  serene  in  the  sultry  solstice  of  summer, 

Suddenly  gathers  a  storm,  and  the  deadly  sling  of  the  hailstones 

Beats  down  the  farmer's  corn  in  the  field  and  shatters  his  windows. 

Hiding  the  sun,  and  strewing  the  ground  with  thatch  from  the  house-roofs, 

Bellowing  fly  the  herds,  and  seek  to  break  their  enclosures; 

So  on  the  hearts  of  the  people  descended  the  words  of  the  speaker. 

Silent  a  moment  they  stood  in  speechless  wonder,  and  then  rose 

Louder  and  ever  louder  a  wail  of  sorrow  and  anger. 

And,  by  one  impulse  moved,  they  madly  rushed  to  the  door-way. 

Vain  was  the  hope  of  escape;  and  cries  and  fierce  imprecations 

Rang  through  the  house  of  prayer ;  and  high  o'er  the  heads  (^    the  others 

Rose,  with  his  arms  uplifted,  the  figure  of  Basil  the  blacksmith. 

As,  on  a  stormy  sea,  a  spar  is  tossed  by  the  billows. 

Flushed  was  his  face  and  distorted  with  passion ;  and  wildly  he  shouted,  — 

"  Down  with  the  tyrants  of  England  !  we  never  have  sworn  them  allegiance! 

Death  to  these  foreign  soldiers,  who  seize  on  our  homes  and  our  harvests !" 

More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  the  merciless  hand  of  a  soldier 

Smote  him  upon  the  mouth,  and  dragged  him  down  to  the  pavement. 


\k  /■'■! 


Monily,  iiicrrily,  uliirlcci  the  wlicelj  of  the  dizzying  dances 

Under  the  oichaid-trccs  and  down  the  path  to  the  meadows."     Pace  15. 


h  i 


i 


J 


EVANGELINE. 

In  the  midst  of  the  strife  and  tumult  of  angry  contention, 
Lo  !  the  door  of  the  chancel  opened,  and  Father  Felician 
Entered,  with  serious  mien,  and  ascended  the  steps  of  the  altar. 
Raising  his  reverend  hand,  with  a  gesture  he  awed  into  silence 
All  that  clamorous  throng;  and  thus  he  spake  to  his  people; 
Deep  were  his  tones  and  solemn  ;  in  accents  measured  and  mournful 
Spake  he,  as,  after  the  tocsin's  alarum,  distinctly  the  clock  strikes. 
"  What  is  this  that  ye  do,  my  children  ?  what  madness  has  seized  you  ? 
Forty  years  of  my  life  have  I  labored  among  you,  and  taught  you, 
Not  in  word  alone,  but  in  deed,  to  love  one  another ! 
Is  this  the  fruit  of  my  toils,  of  my  vigils  and  prayers  and  privations !» 
Have  you  so  soon  forgotten  all  lessons  of  love  and  forgiveness  > 
This  is  the  house  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  would  you  profane  it 
Thus  with  violent  deeds  and  hearts  overflowing  with  hatred  ? 
Lo  !  where  the  crucified  Christ  from  his  cross  is  gazing  upon  you ! 
See!  in  those  sorrowful  eyes  what  meekness  and  holy  compassion  ! 
Hark  !  how  those  lips  still  repeat  the  prayer,  '  O  Father,  forgive  them  ! ' 
Let  us  repeat  that  prayer  in  the  hour  when  the  wicked  assail  us. 
Let  us  repeat  it  now,  and  say,  '  O  Father,  forgive  them  ! '  " 
Few  were  his  words  of  rebuke,  but  deep  in  the  hearts  of  his  people 
Sank  they,  and  sobs  of  contrition  succeeded  the  passionate  outbreak. 
While  they  repeated  his  prayer,  and  said,  "  O  Father,  forgive  them  '  " 


17 


Then  came  the  evening  service.     The  tapers  gleamed  from  the  altar. 
Fervent  and  deep  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  the  people  responded. 
Not  with  their  lips  alone,  but  their  hearts;  and  the  Ave  Maria 
Sang  they,  and  fell  on  their  knees,  and  their  souls,  with  devotion  translated, 
Rose  on  the  ardor  of  prayer,  like  Elijah  ascending  to  heaven. 

Meanwhile  had  spread  in  the  village  the  tidings  of  ill,  and  on  all  sides 
Wandered,  wailing,  from  house  to  house  the  women  and  children. 


i8 


EVANGELINE. 


Long  at  her  father's  door  Evangeline  stood,  with  her  right  hand 

Shielding  her  eyes  from  the  level  rays  of  the  sun,  that,  descending, 

Lighted  the  village  street  with  mysterious  splendor,  and  roofed  each 

Peasant's  cottage  with  golden  thatch,  and  emblazoned  its  windows. 

Long  within  had  been  spread  the  snow-white  cloth  on  the  table  ; 

There  stood  the  wheaten  loaf,  and  the  honey  fragrant  with  wild-flowers ; 

There  stood  the  tankard  of  ale,  and  the  cheese  fresh  brought  from  the  dairy ; 

And,  at  the  head  of  the  board,  the  great  arm-chair  of  the  farmer. 

Thus  did  Evangeline  wait  at  her  father's  door,  as  the  sunset 

Threw  the  long  shadows  of  trees  o'er  the  broad  ambrosial  meadows. 

Ah  !  on  her  spirit  within  fi  deeper  shadow  had  fallen, 

And  from  the  fields  of  her  soul  a  fragrance  celestial  ascended,  — 

Charity,  meekness,  love,  and  hope,  and  forgiveness,  and  patience ! 

Then,  all-forgetful  of  self,  she  wandered  into  the  village, 

Cheering  with  looks  and  words  the  mournful  hearts  of  the  women. 

As  o'er  the  darkening  fields  with  lingering  steps  they  departed. 

Urged  by  their  household  cares,  and  the  weary  feet  of  their  children. 

Down  sank  the  great  red  sun,  and  in  golden,  glimmering  vapors 

Veiled  the  light  of  his  face,  like  the  Prophet  descending  from  Sinai. 

Sweetly  over  the  village  the  bell  of  the  Angelus  sounded. 


Meanwhile,  amid  the  gloom,  by  the  church  Evangeline  lingered. 
All  was  silent  within ;  and  in  vain  at  the  door  and  the  windows 
Stood  she,  and  listened  and  looked,  till,  overcome  by  emotion, 
"  Gabriel  ! "  cried  she  aloud  with  tremulous  voice ;  but  no  answer 
Came  from  the  graves  of  the  dead,  nor  the  gloomier  grave  of  the  living. 
Slowly  at  length  she  returned  to  the  tenantless  house  of  her  father. 
Smouldered  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  on  the  board  was  the  supper  untasted. 
Empty  and  drear  was  each  room,  and  haunted  with  phantoms  of  terror. 
Sadly  echoed  her  step  on  the  stair  and  the  floor  of  her  chamber. 
In  the  dead  of  the  night  she  heard  the  disconsolate  rain  fall 


■■■J 

I   i 


.1::  , 


'•Without,  in  the  churchyard, 
Waited  the  women.      Fhey  stood  by  the  graves,  and  hung  on  the  headstones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from  the  forest. 
Then  came  th,>  guard  from  the  ships."  Vac^  15. 


EVANGELINE. 

Loud  on  the  withered  leaves  of  the  sycamorc-trcc  by  the  window. 
Keenly  the  Hghtning  flashed  ;  and  the  voice  of  the  echoing  thunder 
Told  her  that  God  was  in  heaven,  and  governed  the  world  he  created  ! 
Then  she  remembered  the  tale  she  had  heard  of  the  justice  of  Heaven ; 
Soothed  was  her  troubled  soul,  and  she  peacefully  slumbered  till  morning. 

V. 

Four  times  the  sun  had  risen  and  set ;  and  now  on  the  fifth  day 
Cheerily  called  the  cock  to  the  sleeping  maids  of  the  farm-house. 
Soon  o'er  the  yellow  fields,  in  silent  and  mournful  procession, 
Came  from  the  neighboring  hamlets  and  farms  the  Acadian  women. 
Driving  in  ponderous  wains  their  household  goods  to  the  sea-shore, 
Pausing  and  looking  back  to  gaze  once  more  on  their  dwellings. 
Ere  they  were  shut  from  sight  by  the  winding  road  and  the  woodland. 
Close  at  their  sides  their  children  ran,  and  urged  on  the  oxen, 
While  in  their  little  hands  they  clasped  some  fragments  of  playthings. 

Thus  to  the  Gaspereau's  mouth  they  hurried ;  and  there  on  the  sea-beach 
Piled  in  confusion  lay  the  household  goods  of  the  peasants. 
All  day  long  between  the  shore  and  the  ships  did  the  boats  ply ; 
All  day  long  the  wains  came  laboring  down  from  the  village. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  near  to  his  setting, 
Echoed  far  o'er  the  fields  came  the  roll  of  drums  from  the  churchyard. 
Thither  the  women  and  children  thronged.     On  a  sudden  the  church-doors 
Opened,  and  forth  came  the  guard,  and  marching  in  gloomy  procession 
Followed  the  long-imprisoned,  but  patient,  Acadian  farmers. 
Even  as  pilgrims,  who  journey  afar  from  their  homes  and  their  country, 
Sing  as  they  go,  and  in  singing  forget  they  are  weary  and  wayworn. 
So  with  songs  on  their  lips  the  Acadian  peasants  descended 
Down  from  the  church  to  the  shore,  amid  their  wives  and  their  daughters. 
Foremost  the  young  men  came ;  and,  raising  together  their  voices, 


19 


20 


EVANGELINE. 


SanjT  with  tremulous  lips  a  chant  of  the  Catholic  Missions  :  — 

"  Sacred  heart  of  the  Saviour  !     O  inexhaustible  fountain  ! 

Fill  our  hearts  this  clay  with  strength  and  submission  and  patience!" 

Then  the  old  men,  as  they  marched,  and  the  women  that  stood  by  the  wayside 

Joined  in  the  sacred  psalm,  and  the  birds  in  the  sunshine  above  them 

Mingled  their  notes  therewith,  like  voices  of  spirits  departed. 

Half-way  down  to  the  shore  Evangeline  waited  in  silence. 
Not  overcome  with  grief,  but  strong  in  the  hour  of  affliction.  — 
Calmly  and  sadly  she  waited,  until  the  procession  approached  her, 
And  she  beheld  the  face  of  Gabriel  pale  with  emotion. 
Tears  then  filled  her  eyes,  and,  eagerly  running  to  meet  him, 
Clasped  she  his  hands,  and  laiil  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  whispered, — 
"  Gabriel !  be  of  good  cheer  !  for  if  we  love  one  another, 
Nothing,  in  truth,  can  harm  us,  whatever  mischances  may  happen !  " 
Smiling  she  spake  these  words;  then  suddenly  paused,  for  her  father 
Saw  she  slowly  advancing.     Alas  !  how  changed  was  his  aspect ! 
Gone  was  the  glow  from  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  from  his  eye,  and  his  footstep 
Heavier  seemed  with  the  weight  of  the  heavy  heart  in  his  bosom. 
But  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh,  she  clasped  his  neck  and  embraced  him, 
Speaking  words  of  endearment  where  words  of  comfort  availed  not. 
Thus  to  the  Gaspereau's  mouth  moved  on  that  mournful  procession. 


There  disorder  prevailed,  and  the  tumult  and  stir  of  embarking. 
Busily  plied  the  freighted  boats;  and  in  the  confusion 

Wives  were  torn  from  their  husbands,  and  mothers,  too  late,  saw  their  children 
Left  on  the  land,  extending  their  arms,  with  wildest  entreaties. 
So  unto  separate  ships  were  Basil  and  Gabriel  carried. 
While  in  despair  on  the  shore  Evangeline  stood  with  her  father. 
Half  the  task  was  not  done  when  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  twilight 
Deepened  and  darkened  around ;  and  in  haste  the  refluent  ocean 


^sifle 


step 


Id 


ren 


"  Came  iVoni  tin.'  ncij^hboiini;  li.Tinkts  and  lanns  the  Acatlian  women, 
Diiviiig  ill  i)unil(.nius  wains  their  lioiisehoid  goods  to  tlie  sea-shore."     Pauk  19. 


EVANGELINE.  2 1 

Fled  away  from  the  shore,  and  left  the  line  of  the  sand-beach 

Covered  with  waifs  of  the  tide,  with  kelp  and  the  slippery  sea-weed. 

Farther  back  in  the  midst  of  the  household  goods  and  the  wagons, 

Like  to  a  gypsy  camp,  or  a  leaguer  after  a  battle. 

All  escape  cut  off  by  the  sea,  and  the  sentinels  near  them. 

Lay  encamped  for  the  night  the  houseless  Acadian  farmers. 

Back  to  its  nethermost  caves  retreated  the  bellowincr  ocean, 

Dragging  adown  the  beach  the  rattling  pebbles,  and  leaving 

Inland  and  far  up  the  shore  the  stranded  boats  of  the  sailors. 

Then,  as  the  night  descended,  the  herds  returned  from  their  pastures ; 

Sweet  was  the  moist  still  air  with  the  odor  of  milk  from  their  udders  ; 

Lowing  they  waited,  and  long,  at  the  well-known  bars  of  the  farm-yard,  — 

Waited  and  looked  in  vain  for  the  voice  and  the  hand  of  the  milkmaid. 

Silence  reigned  in  the  streets ;  from  the  church  no  Angelus  sounded. 

Rose  no  smoke  from  the  roofs,  and  gleamed  no  lights  from  the  windows. 

But  on  the  shores  meanwhile  the  evening  fires  had  been  kindled, 
Built  of  the  drift-wood  thrown  on  the  sands  from  wrecks  in  the  tempest. 
Round  them  shapes  of  gloom  and  sorrowful  faces  were  gathered. 
Voices  of  women  were  heard,  and  of  men,  and  the  crying  of  children. 
Onward  from  fire  to  fire,  as  from  hearth  to  hearth  in  his  parish. 
Wandered  the  faithful  priest,  consoling  and  blessing  and  cheering. 
Like  unto  shipwrecked  Paul  on  Melita's  desolate  sea-shore. 
Thus  he  approached  the  place  where  Evangeline  sat  with  her  father. 
And  in  the  flickering  light  beheld  the  face  of  the  old  man, 
Haggard  and  hollow  and  wan,  and  without  either  thought  or  emotion, 
E'en  as  the  face  of  a  clock  from  which  the  hands  have  been  taken. 
Vainly  Evangeline  strove  with  words  and  caresses  to  cheer  him. 
Vainly  offered  him  food ;  yet  he  moved  not,  he  looked  not,  he  spake  not, 
But,  with  a  vacant  stare,  ever  gazed  at  the  flickering  fire-light. 
"  Benedicite  !  "  murmured  the  priest,  in  tones  of  compassion. 


22 


EVANGELINE. 


More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  his  heart  was  full,  and  his  accents 
Faltered  and  paused  on  his  lips,  as  the  feet  of  a  child  on  a  threshold, 
Hushed  by  the  scene  he  beholds,  and  the  awful  presence  of  sorrow. 
Silently,  therefore,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the  maiden, 
RaisinjT  his  tearful  eyes  to  the  silent  stars  that  above  them 
Mo\'ed  on  their  way,  unperturbed  by  the  wroni^^s  and  sorrows  of  mortals. 
Then  sat  he  down  at  her  side,  and  they  wept  together  in  silence. 

Suddenly  rose  from  the  south  a  light,  as  in  autumn  the  blood-red 
Moon  climbs  the  crystal  walls  of  heaven,  and  o'er  the  horizon 
Titan-like  stretches  its  hundred  hands  upon  mountain  and  meadow. 
Seizing  the  rocks  and  the  rivers,  and  piling  huge  shadows  together. 
Broader  and  ever  broader  it  gleamed  on  the  roofs  of  the  village. 
Gleamed  on  the  sky  and  the  sea,  and  the  ships  that  lay  in  the  roadstead. 
Columns  of  shining  smoke  uprose,  and  flashes  of  flame  were 
Thrust  through  their  folds  and  withdrawn,  like  the  quivering  hands  of  a  martyr. 
Then  as  the  wind  seized  the  gleeds  and  the  burning  thatch,  and,  uplifting, 
Whirled  them  aloft  through  the  air,  at  once  from  a  hundred  house-tops 
Started  the  sheeted  smoke  with  flashes  of  flame  intermingled. 


These  things  beheld  in  dismay  the  crowd  on  the  shore  and  on  shipboard. 
Speechless  at  first  they  stood,  then  cried  aloud  in  their  anguish, 
"  We  shall  behold  no  more  our  homes  in  the  village  of  Grand-Pre  !  " 
Loud  on  a  sudden  the  cocks  began  to  crow  in  the  farm-yards. 
Thinking  the  day  had  dawned  ;  and  anon  the  lowing  of  cattle 
Came  on  the  evening  breeze,  by  the  barking  of  dogs  interrupted. 
Then  rose  a  sound  of  dread,  such  as  startles  the  sleeping  encampments 
Far  in  the  western  prairies  or  forests  that  skirt  the  Nebraska, 
When  the  wild  horses  affrighted  sweep  by  with  the  speed  of  the  whirlwind, 
Or  the  loud  bellowing  herds  of  buffaloes  rush  to  the  river. 
Such  was  the  sound  that  arose  on  the  night,  as  the  herds  and  the  horses 
Broke  through  their  folds  and  fences,  and  madly  rushed  o'er  the  meadows. 


nartyr. 


i 


'  Tiu'iv  disorder  |)iev.uled,  and  tlic  tiinuilt  and  stir  of  embarking. 
Biisils  plied  tiie  freigiued  boats ;  and  in  llie  confusion 

Wives  were  Uy<\  Ironi  their  husbands,  and  niotliers.  too  late,  saw  their  children 
Left  on  the  land."  p^,;,.  ^g_ 


EVANGELINE. 

Overwhelmed  with  the  sight,  yet  speechless,  the  priest  and  the  maiden 
Gazed  on  the  scene  of  terror  that  reddened  and  widened  before  them ; 
And  as  they  turned  at  length  to  speak  to  their  silent  companion, 
Lo  !  from  his  seat  he  had  fallen,  and  stretched  abroad  on  the  sea-shore 
Motionless  lay  his  form,  from  which  the  soul  had  departed. 
Slowly  the  priest  uplifted  the  lifeless  head,  and  the  maiden 
Knelt  at  her  father's  side,  and  wailed  aloud  in  her  terror. 
Then  in  a  swoon  she  sank,  and  lay  with  her  head  on  his  bosom. 
Through  the  long  night  she  lay  in  deep,  oblivious  slumber; 
And  when  she  woke  from  the  trance,  she  beheld  a  multitude  near  her. 
Faces  of  friends  she  beheld,  that  were  mournfully  gazing  upon  her. 
Pallid,  with  tearful  eyes,  and  looks  of  saddest  compassion. 
Stdl  the  blaze  of  the  burning  village  illumined  the  landscape. 
Reddened  the  sky  overhead,  and  gleamed  on  the  faces  around  her. 
And  like  the  day  of  doom  it  seemed  to  her  wavering  senses. 
Then  a  familiar  voice  she  heard,  as  it  said  to  the  people, — 
"  Let  us  bury  him  here  by  the  sea.     When  a  happier  season 
Brings  us  again  to  our  homes  from  the  unknown  land  of  our  exile. 
Then  shall  his  sacred  dust  be  piously  laid  in  the  churchyard." 
Such  were  the  words  of  the  priest.     And  there  in  haste  by  the  sea-sldc. 
Having  the  glare  of  the  burning  village  for  funeral  torches. 
But  without  bell  or  book,  they  buried  the  farmer  of  Grand-Prd. 
And  as  the  voice  of  the  priest  repeated  the  service  of  sorrow, 
Lo !  with  a  mournful  sound,  like  the  voice  of  a  vast  concreQ-ation. 
Solemnly  answered  the  sea,  and  mingled  its  roar  with  the  dirges. 
T  was  the  returning  tide,  that  afar  from  the  waste  of  the  ocean. 
With  the  first  dawn  of  the  day,  came  heaving  and  hurrying  landward. 
Then  recommenced  once  more  the  stir  and  noise  of  embarkino- : 
And  with  the  ebb  of  the  tide  the  ships  sailed  out  of  the  harbor, 
Leaving  behind  them  the  dead  on  the  shore,  and  the  village  in  ruins. 


23 


24 


EVANGELINE. 


PART  THE    SECOND. 


I. 


ANY  a  weary  year  had  passed  since  the  burninjT  of  Grand-Pre, 
When  on  the  falling  tide  the  freighted  vessels  departed, 
Bearing  a  nation,  with  all  its  househoUl  gods,  into  exile, 
Exile  without  an  end,  and  without  an  example  in  storv. 
Far  asunder,  on  separate  coasts,  the  Acadians  landed  ; 
Scattered  were  the}',  like  flakes  of  snow,  when  the  wind  from  the  northeast 
Strikes  aslant  through  the  fogs  that  darken  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland. 
Friendless,  homeless,  hopeless,  they  wandered  from  city  to  city. 
From  the  cold  lakes  of  the  North  to  sultry  Southern  savannas,  — 
From  the  bleak  shores  of  the  sea  to  the  lands  where  the  Father  of  Waters 
Seizes  the  hills  in  his  hands,  and  drags  them  down  to  the  ocean, 
Deep  in  their  sands  to  bury  the  scattered  bones  of  the  mammoth. 
Friends  they  sought  and  homes  ;  and  many,  despairing,  heart-broken, 
Asked  of  the  earth  but  a  grave,  and  no  longer  a  friend  nor  a  fireside. 
Written  their  history  stands  on  tablets  of  stone  in  the  churchyards. 
Long  among  them  was  seen  a  maiden  who  waited  and  wandered, 
Lowly  and  meek  in  spirit,  and  patiently  suffering  all  things. 
Fair  was  she  and  young  ;  but,  alas !  before  her  extended. 
Dreary  and  vast  and  silent,  the  desert  of  life,  with  its  pathway 
Marked  by  the  graves  of  those  who  had  sorrowed  and  suffered  before  her, 
Passions  long  extinguished,  and  hopes  long  dead  and  abandoned, 
As  the  emigrant's  way  o'er  the  Western  desert  is  marked  by 
Camp-fires  long  consumed,  and  bones  that  bleach  in  the  sunshine. 
Something  there  was  in  her  life  incomplete,  imperfect,  unfinished  ; 


EVANGELINE.  r 

As  if  a  morninjr  of  June,  with  all  its  music  and  sunshine, 

Suddenly  paused  in  the  sky,  and,  fading-,  slowly  descended 

Into  the  east  aj^ain,  from  whence  it  late  had  arisen. 

Sometimes  she  lingered  in  towns,  till,  urtred  by  the  fever  within  her, 

Urged  by  a  restless  lon^rinar,  the  huni^er  and  thirst  of  the  spirit, 

She  would  commence  attain  her  endless  search  and  endeavor; 

Sometimes  in  churchyards  strayed,  and  jrazed  on  the  crosses  and  tombstones. 

Sat  by  some  nameless  crrave,  and  thouj^ht  that  j)erha])s  in  its  bosom 

He  was  already  at  rest,  and  she  lonjrcd  to  slumber  beside  him. 

Sometimes  a  rumor,  a  hearsay,  an  inarticulate  whisi)er. 

Came  with  its  airy  hand  to  point  and  beckon  her  forward. 

Sometimes  she  spake  with  those  who  had  seen  her  beloved  and  known  him. 

But  it  was  long-  ago,  in  some  far-off  place  or  forgotten. 

"  Gabriel  Lajeunesse  !  "  they  said  ;  "  O  yes  !  we  have  seen  him. 

He  was  with  Basil  the  blacksmith,  and  both  have  gone  to  the  prairies  ; 

Coureurs-dcs-Bois  are  they,  and  famous  hunters  and  trappers." 

"  Gabriel  Lajeunesse  !  "  said  others  ;  "  O  yes  !  we  ha\e  seen  him. 

He  is  a  Voyageur  in  the  lowlands  of  Louisiana." 

Then  would  they  say,  "  Dear  child  !  why  dream  and  wait  for  him  longer? 

Are  there  not  other  youths  as  fair  as  Gabriel  ?  others 

Who  have  hearts  as  tender  and  true,  and  spirits  as  loyal  ? 

Here  is  Baptiste  Leblanc,  the  notary's  son,  who  has  loved  thee 

Many  a  tedious  year;  come,  give  him  thy  hand  and  be  happy  ! 

Thou  art  too  fair  to  be  left  to  braid  St.  Catherine's  tresses." 

Then  would  Evangeline  answer,  serenely  but  sadly,  "  I  cannot ! 

Whither  my  heart  has  gone,  there  follows  my  hand,  and  not  elsewhere. 

For  when  the  heart  goes  before,  like  a  lamp,  and  illumines  the  pathway, 

Many  things  are  made  clear,  that  else  lie  hidden  in  darkness." 

Thereupon  the  priest,  her  friend  and  father-confessor, 

Said,  with  a  smile,  "  O  daughter !  thy  God  thus  speaketh  within  thee ! 

Talk  not  of  wasted  affection,  affection  never  was  wasted ; 


>  EVANGELINE. 

If  it  enrich  not  the  heart  of  another,  its  waters,  return iny^ 

Back  to  their  springs,  like  the  rain,  shall  fill  them  full  of  refreshment; 

That  which  the  fountain  sends  forth  returns  aji^ain  to  the  fountain. 

Patience;  accomplish  thy  labor;  accomplish  thy  work  of  affection  ! 

Sorrow  and  silence  are  strong-,  and  patient  endurance  is  ijodlike. 

Therefore  accomplish  thy  labor  of  love,  till  the  heart  is  made  ijodlike. 

Purified,  strengthened,  perfected,  and  rendered  more  worthy  of  heaven  !  " 

Cheered  by  the  good  man's  words,  Evangeline  labored  and  waited. 

Still  in  her  heart  she  heard  the  funeral  dirge  of  the  ocean, 

But  with  its  sound  there  was  mingled  a  voice  that  whispered,  '  Despair  not !  " 

Thus  did  that  poor  soul  wander  in  want  and  cheerless  discomfort, 

Bleeding,  barefoot'^d,  over  the  shards  and  thorns  of  existence. 

Let  me  essay,  O  Muse  !  to  follow  the  wanderer's  footsteps  ;  — 

Not  through  each  devious  path,  each  changeful  year  of  existence ; 

But  as  a  travellei  follows  a  streamlet's  course  through  the  valley  : 

Far  from  its  margin  at  times,  and  seeing  the  gleam  of  its  water 

Here  and  there,  in  some  open  space,  and  at  intervals  only  ; 

Then  drawing  nearer  its  banks,  through  sylvan  glooms  that  conceal  it, 

Though  he  behold  it  not,  he  can  hear  its  continuous  murmur ; 

Happy,  at  length,  if  he  find  the  spot  where  it  reaches  an  outlet. 


II. 

It  was  the  month  of  May.     Far  down  the  Beautiful  River, 
Past  the  Ohio  shore  and  past  the  mouth  of  the  Wabash, 
Into  the  golden  stream  of  the  broad  and  swift  Mississippi, 
Floated  a  cumbrous  boat,  that  was  rowed  by  Acadian  boatmen. 
It  was  a  band  of  exiles:  a  raft,  as  it  were,  from  the  shipwrecked 
Nation,  scattered  along  the  coast,  now  floating  together, 
Bound  by  the  bonds  of  a  common  belief  and  a  common  misfortune ; 
Men  and  women  and  children,  who,  guided  by  hope  or  by  hearsay, 
Sought  for  their  kith  and  their  kin  among  the  few-acred  farmers 


lot! 


EVANGELINE. 

On  the  Acadian  coast,  and  the  prairies  of  fair  Opclousas. 

With  them  Evangeline  went,  and  her  guide,  the  Father  Felician. 

Onward  o'er  sunken  sands,  through  a  wilderness  sombre  with  forests. 

Day  after  day  they  glided  adown  the  turbulent  river ; 

Night  after  night,  by  their  blazing  fires,  encamped  on  its  borders. 

Now  through  rushing  chutes,  among  green  islands,  where  plumelike 

Cotton-trees  nodded  their  shadowy  crests,  they  swept  with  the  current, 

Then  emerged  into  broad  lagoons,  where  silvery  sand-bars 

Lay  in  the  stream,  and  along  the  wimpling  waves  of  their  margin. 

Shining  with  snow-white  plumes,  large  flocks  of  pelicans  waded. 

Level  the  landscape  grew,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  river, 

Shaded  by  china-trees,  in  the  midst  of  luxuriant  gardens. 

Stood  the  houses  of  planters,  with  negro-cabins  and  dove-cots. 

They  were  approaching  the  region  where  reigns  perpetual  summer, 

Where  through  the  Golden  Coast,  and  gr()\es  of  orange  and  citron, 

Sweeps  with  majestic  curv^e  the  river  away  to  the  eastward. 

They,  too,  swerved  from  their  course  ;  and,  entering  the  Bayou  of  Plaquemine, 

Soon  were  lost  in  a  maze  of  sluggish  and  devious  waters, 

Which,  like  a  network  of  steel,  extended  in  every  direction. 

Over  their  heads  the  towering  and  tenebrous  boughs  of  the  cvpress 

Met  in  a  dusky  arch,  and  trailing  mosses  in  mid-air 

Waved  like  banners  that  hang  on  the  walls  of  ancient  cathedrals. 

Deathlike  the  silence  seemed,  and  unbroken,  save  by  the  herons 

Home  to  their  roosts  in  the  cedar-trees  returning  at  sunset, 

Or  by  the  owl,  as  he  greeted  the  moon  with  demoniac  laughter. 

Lovely  the  moonlight  was  as  it  glanced  and  gleamed  on  the  water, 

Gleamed  on  the  columns  of  cypress  and  cedar  sustaining  the  arches, 

Down  through  whose  broken  vaults  it  fell  as  through  chinks  in  a  ruin. 

Dreamlike,  and  indistinct,  and  strange  were  all  things  around  them; 

And  o'er  their  spirits  there  came  a  feeling  of  wonder  and  sadness,  — 

Strange  forebodings  of  ill,  unseen  and  that  cannot  be  compassed. 


27 


28  EVANGELINE. 

As,  at  the  tramp  of  a  horse's  hoof  on  the  turf  of  the  prairies, 
Far  in  advance  are  closed  the  leaves  of  the  shrinking  mimosa, 
So.  at  the  hoof-beats  of  fate,  with  sad  forebodings  of  evil. 
Shrinks  and  closes  the  heart,  ere  the  stroke  of  doom  has  attained  it. 
But  Evangeline's  heart  was  sustained  by  a  vision,  that  faintly 
Floated  before  her  eyes,  and  beckoned  her  on  through  the  moonlight. 
It  was  the  thought  of  her  brain  that  assumed  the  shape  of  a  phantom. 
Through  those  shadowy  aisles  had  Gabriel  wandered  before  her, 
And  e\ery  stroke  of  the  oar  now  brought  him  nearer  and  nearer. 

Then  in  his  place,  at  the  prow  of  the  boat,  rose  one  of  the  oarsmen. 
And,  as  a  signal  sound,  if  others  like  them  peradventure 
Sailed  on  those  gloomy  and  midnight  streams,  blew  a  blast  on  his  bugle. 
Wild  through  the  dark  colonnades  and  corridors  leafy  the  blast  rang. 
Breaking  the  seal  of  silence,  and  giving  tongues  to  the  forest. 
Soundless  above  them  the  banners  of  moss  just  stirred  to  the  music. 
Multitudinous  echoes  awoke  and  died  in  the  distance, 
0\-er  the  watery  floor,  and  beneath  the  reverberant  branches ; 
But  not  a  voice  rci)lied  ;  no  answer  came  from  the  darkness; 
And.  when  the  echoes  had  ceased,  like  a  sense  of  pain  was  the  silence. 
Then  Evangeline  slejit ;  but  the  boatmen  rowed  through  the  midnight, 
Silent  at  times,  then  singing  familiar  Canadian  boat-songs, 
Such  as  the\'  sang  of  old  on  their  own  Acadian  rivers. 
W'hile  through  the  night  were  heard  the  mysterious  sounds  of  the  desert, 
Vtw  ofl,  —  uidistinct, — as  of  wave  or  wind  in  the  forest. 
Mixed  with  the  whooi)  of  the  crane  and  the  roar  of  the  erim  alligator. 


Thus  ere  another  noon  they  emerged  from  the  shades;  and  before  them 
Lay,  in  the  golden  sun,  the  lakes  of  the  Atchafalaya. 
Water-lilies  in  mvriads  rocked  on  the  slight  undulations 
Made  by  the  passing  oars,  and,  resplendent  in  beauty,  the  lotus 


EVANGELINE. 

Lifted  her  irolden  crown  rbove  the  heads  of  the  boatmen. 
Faint  was  the  air  with  the  odorous  breath  of  ma.frnolia  blossoms, 
And  with  the  heat  of  noon  ;  and  numl)erless  sylvan  islands, 
Fragrant  and  thickly  embowered  with  blossoming  hedges  of  roses, 
Near  to  whose  shores  they  glided  along,  invited  to  slumber. 
Soon  by  the  fairest  of  these  their  weary  oars  were  susjjcnded. 
Under  the  boughs  of  Wachita  willows,  that  grew  by  the  margin, 
Safely  their  boat  was  moored  ;  and  scattered  about  on  the  greenswanl, 
Tired  with  their  midnight  toil,  the  weary  travellers  slumbered. 
Over  them  vast  and  high  extended  the  cope  of  a  cedar. 
Swinging  from  its  great  arms,  the  trumpet-flower  and  the  grape-vine 
Hung  their  ladder  of  ropes  aloft  like  the  ladder  of  Jacob, 
On  whose  pendulous  stairs  the  angels  ascending,  descending, 
Were  the  swift  humming-birds,  that  fhtted  from  blossom  to  blossom. 
Such  was  the  vision  Ex'angeline  saw  as  she  slumbered  beneath  it. 
Filled  was  her  heart  with  love,  and  the  dawn  of  an  opening  heaven 
Lighted  her  soul  in  sleep  with  the  glor)'  of  regions  celestial. 


29 


Nearer  and  ever  nearer,  among  the  numberless  islands. 
Darted  a  light,  swift  boat,  that  sped  awa\-  o'er  the  water. 
Urged  on  its  course  by  the  sinewy  arms  of  hunters  and  trappers. 
Northward  its  prow  was  turned,  to  the  land  of  the  bist)n  and  beaver. 
At  the  helm  sat  a  youth,  with  countenance  thoughtful  and  careworn. 
Dark  and  neglected  locks  overshadowed  his  brow,  and  a  sadness 
Somewhat  beyond  his  years  on  his  face  was  legibly  written. 
Gabriel  was  it,  who,  weary  with  waiting,  unhappy  and  restless, 
Sought  in  the  Wesiern  wilds  oblivion  of  self  and  of  sorrow, 
Swiftly  they  glided  along,  close  under  the  lee  of  the  island. 
But  by  the  opposite  bank,  and  behind  a  screen  of  palmettos, 
So  that  they  saw  not  the  boat,  where  it  lay  concealed  in  the  willows ; 
All  undisturbed  by  the  dash  of  their  oars,  and  unseen,  were  the  sleepers; 


30  EVANGELINE. 

Angel  of  God  was  there  none  to  awaken  the  slumbering  maiden. 

Swiftly  they  glided  away,  like  the  shade  of  a  cloud  on  the  prairie. 

After  the  sound  of  their  oars  on  the  tholes  had  died  in  the  distance, 

As  from  a  magic  trance  the  sleepers  awoke,  and  the  maiden 

Said  with  a  sigh  to  the  friendly  priest,  "  O  Father  Felician! 

Something  says  in  my  heart  that  near  me  Gabriel  wanders. 

Is  it  a  foolish  dream,  an  idle  and  vague  superstition  ? 

Or  has  an  angel  passed,  and  revealed  the  truth  to  my  spirit  ? " 

Then,  with  a  blush,  she  added,  "  Alas  for  my  credulous  fancy  ! 

Unto  ears  like  thine  such  words  as  these  have  no  meanino'." 

But  made  answer  the  reverend  man,  and  he  smiled  as  he  answered, — 

"  Daughter,  thy  words  are  not  idle  ;  nor  are  they  to  me  without  meaning. 

Feeling  is  deep  and  still  ;  and  the  word  that  floats  on  the  surface 

Is  as  the  tossing  buoy,  that  betrays  where  the  anchor  is  hidden. 

Therefore  trust  to  thy  heart,  and  to  what  the  world  calls  illusions. 

Gabriel  truly  is  near  thee ;  for  not  far  away  to  the  southward, 

On  the  banks  of  the  Teche,  are  the  towns  of  St.  Maur  and  St.  Martin. 

There  the  long-wandering  bride  shall  be  given  again  to  her  bridegroom, 

There  the  long-absent  pastor  regain  his  flock  and  his  sheepfold. 

Beautiful  is  the  land,  with  its  prairies  and  forests  of  fruit-trees; 

Under  the  feet  a  garden  of  flowers,  and  the  bluest  of  heavens 

Bending  above,  and  resting  its  dome  on  the  walls  of  the  forest. 

They  who  dwell  there  have  named  it  the  Eden  of  Louisiana." 


With  these  words  of  cheer  they  arose  and  continued  their  journey. 
Softly  the  evening  came.     The  sun  from  the  western  horizon 
Like  a  magician  extended  his  golden  wand  o'er  the  landscape  ; 
Twinkling  vapors  arose;  and  sky  .and  water  and  forest 
Seemed  all  on  fire  at  the  touch,  and  melted  and  mingled  together. 
Hanging  between  two  skies,  a  cloud  with  edges  of  silver, 
Floated  the  boat,  with  its  dripping  oars,  on  the  motionless  water. 


EyANGELINE. 

Filled  was  Evangeline's  heart  with  inexpressible  sweetness. 

Touched  by  the  magic  spell,  the  sacred  fountains  of  feeling 

Glowed  with  the  light  of  love,  as  the  skies  and  waters  around  her. 

Then  from  a  neighboring  thicket  the  mocking-bird,  wildest  of  singers. 

Swinging  aloft  on  a  willow  spray  that  hung  o'er  the  water, 

Shook  from  his  little  throat  such  floods  of  delirious  music, 

That  the  whole  air  and  the  woods  and  the  waves  seemed  silent  to  listen. 

Plaintive  at  first  were  the  tones  and  sad  ;  then  soaring  to  madness 

Seemed  they  to  follow  or  guide  the  revel  of  frenzied  Bacchantes. 

Single  notes  were  then  heard,  in  sorrowful,  low  lamentation  ; 

Till,  having  gathered  them  all,  he  flung  them  abroad  in  derision. 

As  when,  after  a  storm,  a  gust  of  wind  through  the  tree-tops 

Shakes  down  the  rattling  rain  in  a  crystal  shower  on  the  branches. 

With  such  a  prelude  as  this,  and  hearts  that  throbbed  with  emotion, 

Slowly  they  entered  the  Teche,  where  it  flows  through  the  green  Opelousas, 

And,  through  the  amber  air,  above  the  crest  of  the  woodland. 

Saw  the  column  of  smoke  that  arose  fro'-"  a  neiofhborinir  dwellinof ;  — 

Sounds  of  a  horn  they  heard,  and  the  custant  lowing  of  cattle. 


.3» 


III. 

Near  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  o'ershadowed  by  oaks,  from  whose  branches 

Garlands  of  Spanish  moss  and  of  mystic  mistletoe  flaunted. 

Such  as  the  r3ruids  cut  down  with  golden  hatchets  at  Yule-tide, 

Stood,  secluded  and  still,  the  house  of  the  herdsman.     A  garden 

Girded  it  round  about  with  a  belt  of  luxuriant  blossoms, 

Filling  the  air  with  fragrance.     The  house  itself  was  of  timbers 

Hewn  from  the  cypress-tree,  and  carefully  fitted  together. 

Large  and  low  was  the  roof ;  and  on  slender  columns  supported, 

Rose-wreathed,  vine-encircled,  a  broad  and  spacious  veranda. 

Haunt  of  the  humming-bird  and  the  bee,  extended  around  it. 

At  each  end  of  the  house,  amid  the  flowers  of  the  garden, 


32  EVANGELINE. 

Stationed  the  dove-cots  were,  as  love's  pcr[)etual  symbol, 
Scenes  of  endless  \vooin<]^,  and  endless  contentions  of  rivals. 
Silence  reigned  o'er  the  place.     The  line  of  shadow  and  sunshine 
Ran  near  the  tops  of  the  trees ;  but  the  house  itself  was  in  shadow, 
And  from  its  chimney-top,  ascendini,^  and  slowly  expanding 
Into  the  evening  air,  a  thin  blue  column  of  smoke  rose. 
In  the  rear  of  the  house,  from  the  garden  gate,  ran  a  pathway 
Through  the  great  groves  of  oak  to  the  skirts  of  the  limitless  prairie, 
Into  whose  sea  of  flowers  the  sun  was  slowly  descending. 
Full  in  his  track  of  light,  like  ships  with  shadowy  canvas 
Hanging  loose  from  their  sjjars  in  a  motionless  calm  in  the  tropics, 
Stood  a  cluster  of  trees,  with  tangled  cordage  of  grape-vines. 


Just  where  the  woodlands  met  the  flowery  surf  of  the  i)rairie. 
Mounted  upon  his  horse,  with  Spanish  saddle  and  stirrups, 
Sat  a  herdsman,  arrayed  in  gaiters  and  doublet  of  deerskin. 
Broad  and  brown  was  the  face  that  from  under  the  Spanish  sombrero 
Gazed  on  the  peaceful  scene,  with  the  lordly  look  of  its  master. 
Round  about  him  were  numberless  herds  of  kine,  that  were  grazing 
Quietly  in  the  meadows,  and  breathing  the  vapory  freshness 
That  uprose  from  the  river,  and  spread  itself  over  the  landscape. 
Slowly  lifting  the  horn  that  hung  at  his  side,  and  expanding 
Fully  his  broad,  deep  chest,  he  blew  a  blast,  that  resounded 
Wildly  and  sweet  and  far,  through  the  still  damp  air  of  the  evenincr. 
Suddenly  out  of  the  greiss  the  long  white  horns  of  the  cattle 
Rose  like  flakes  of  foam  on  the  adverse  currents  of  ocean. 
Silent  a  moment  they  gazed,  then  bellowing  rushed  o'er  the  prairie, 
And  the  whole  mass  became  a  cloud,  a  shade  in  the  distance. 
1  hen,  as  the  herdsman  turned  to  the  house,  through  the  gate  of  the  garden 
Saw  he  the  forms  of  the  priest  antl  the  maiden  advancing  to  meet  him. 
Suddenly  down  from  his  horse  he  sprang  in  amazement,  and  forward 


liVANGlUJNE. 

Rushed  with  extended  arms  and  cxchimatlons  of  wonder  ; 

When  they  beheld  his  face,  they  recoi^nized  Basil  the  blacksmith. 

Hearty  his  welcome  was,  as  he  led  his  ijuests  to  the  jrarden. 

There  in  an  arbor  of  roses  with  endless  (juestion  and  answer 

Gave  they  vent  to  their  hearts,  and  renewed  their  friendly  embraces, 

Laughintr  and  weeplnjr  by  turns,  or  sitting-  silent  and  th()U«>htful. 

Thouj^htful,  for  Gabriel  came  not  ;  and  now  dark  doubts  and  mis«rivin,os 

Stole  o'er  the  maiden  s  heart  ;  and  Basil,  somewhat  embarrassed, 

Broke  the  silence  and  said,  "  If  you  came  by  the  Atchafalaya 

How  have  you  nowhere  encountered  my  Gabriel's  boat  on  the  bayous?" 

Over  Evangeline's  face  at  the  words  of  Basil  a  shade  passed. 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  .said,  with  a  tremulous  accent, 

"  Gone  i^  is  (iabi.  J  gone  ?  "  and,  concealing  her  face  on  his  .shoulder, 

All  her  o'erburdened  heart  gave  way,  and  she  wept  and  lamented. 

Then  the  good  Basil  said,  —  and  his  voice  grew  blithe  as  he  said  it, — 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  child  ;  it  is  only  to-day  he  departed. 

Foolish  boy  !  he  has  left  me  alone  with  my  herds  and  m)'  horses. 

Moody  and  restless  grown,  and  tried  and  troubled,  his  spirit 

Could  no  longer  endure  the  calm  of  this  (juiet  existence. 

Thinking  ever  of  thee,  uncertain  and  sorrowful  e\-er. 

Ever  silent,  or  speaking  only  of  thee  and  his  troubles. 

He  at  length  had  become  so  tedious  to  men  and  to  maidens. 

Tedious  even  to  me,  that  at  length  I  bethought  me,  and  sent  him 

Unto  the  town  of  Adaycs  to  trade  for  mules  with  the  Spaniards. 

Thence  he  will  follow  the  Indian  trails  to  the  Ozark  Mountains, 

Hunting  for  furs  in  the  forests,  on  rivers  trapping  the  beaver. 

Therefore  be  of  good  cheer  ;  we  will  follow  the  fugitive  lo\cr ; 

He  is  not  far  on  his  way,  and  the  Fates  and  the  streams  are  against  him. 

U[)  and  away  to-morrow,  and  tlirough  the  red  dew  of  the  morning 

We  will  follow  him  fast,  and  bring  him  back  to  his  prison." 


33 


34 


nrANGELINE. 


Then  irlad  voices  were  heard,  and  up  from  the  banks  of  the  river, 
Borne  aloft  on  his  comrades'  arms,  came  Michael  the  fuldler. 
Loniif  under  Basil's  roof  had  he  lived  like  a  god  on  Olympus, 
Having  no  other  care  than  dispensing  music  to  mortals. 
Far  renowned  was  he  for  his  silver  locks  and  his  fiddle. 
"  Long  live  Michael,"  they  cried,  "our  brave  Acadian  minstrel  ! " 
As  they  bore  him  aloft  in  triumphal  procession  ;  and  straightway 
Father  Felician  advanced  with  Evangeline,  greeting  the  old  man 
Kindly  and  oft,  and  recalling  the  past,  while  Basil,  enraptured, 
Hailed  with  hilarious  joy  his  old  companions  and  gossips, 
Laughing  loud  and  long,  and  embracing  mothers  and  daughters. 
Much  they  marvelled  to  sec  the  wealth  of  the  ci-devant  blacksmith, 
All  his  domains  and  his  herds,  and  his  patriarchal  demeanor  ; 
Much  they  marvelled  to  hear  his  tales  of  the  soil  and  the  climate, 
And  of  the  prairies,  whose  numberless  herds  were  his  who  would  take  them  ; 
Each  one  thought  in  his  heart,  that  he,  too,  would  go  and  do  likewise. 
Thus  they  ascended  the  steps,  and,  crossing  the  breezy  veranda. 
Entered  the  hall  of  the  hcuise,  where  already  the  supper  of  Basil 
Waited  his  late  return  ;  and  they  rested  and  feasted  together. 


0\er  the  joyous  feast  the  sudilen  darkness  descended. 
All  was  silent  without,  and,  illuming  the  landscape  with  silver, 
Fair  rose  the  dew)-  moon  and  the  myriad  stars  ;  but  within  doors. 
Brighter  than  these,  shone  the  faces  of  friends  in  the  glimmering  lamplight. 
Then  from  his  station  aloft,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  herdsman 
Poured  forth  his  heart  and  his  wine  together  in  endless  profusion. 
Lighting  his  pipe,  that  was  filled  with  sweet  Natchitoches  tobacco, 
Thus  he  spake  to  his  guests,  who  listened,  and  smiled  as  they  listened  :  — 
"  Welcome   once  more,  my  friends,  who  long  have  been   friendless   and   home- 
less, 
Welcome  once  more  to  a  home,  that  is  better  perchance  than  the  old  one! 


UyANGELINE. 

Here  no  hungry  winter  conjj^eals  our  hlood  like  the  rivers  ; 

Here  no  stony  t^round  provokes  the  wrath  of  the  farmer. 

Stnootlily  the  ploutjhshare  runs  throuijh  the  soil,  as  a  keel  throujjjh  the  water. 

All  the  )ear  round  the  orani:(e-o;r()\es  are  in  blossom  ;  and  Ljrass  j^rows 

More  in  a  single  nii^ht  than  a  wh.ole  Canadian  summer. 

Here,  too,  numberless  herds  run  wild  and  unclaimed  in  the  prairies  ; 

Here,  t(K),  lands  may  be  had  lor  the  askin.ir,  and  forests  of  timber 

W^ith  a  few  blows  of  the  axe  are  hewn  and  framed  into  houses. 

After  your  houses  are  built,  and  your  fields  are  yellow  with  harvests. 

No  Kinu  Cieorije  of  EnLjland  shall  drive  you  away  from  your  homesteads, 

Burnint)^  your  dwellings  and  barns,  and  stealincj  your  farms  and  your  cattle." 

Speakinti^  these  words,  he  blew  a  wrathful  cloud  from  his  nostrils, 

While  his  huge,  brown  hand  came  thunderinjr  down  on  the  table, 

So  that  the  ijuests  all  started  ;  and  Father  Felician,  astounded. 

Suddenly  i)aused,  with  a  pinch  of  snuff  half-way  to  his  nostrils. 

But  the  brave  liasil  resumed,  and  his  words  were  milder  and  slayer:  — 

"  Only  beware  of  the  fever,  my  friends,  beware  of  the  fever ! 

I*\)r  it  is  not  like  that  of  our  cold  Acadian  climate, 

Cured  by  wearinjr  a  spider  hun;^  round  one's  neck  in  a  nutshell  !" 

Then  there  were  voices  heard  at  the  door,  and  footsteps  ap[)roaching 

Sounded  upon  the  stairs  and  the  lloor  of  the  breezy  veranda. 

It  was  the  neighboring"  Creoles  and  small  Acadian  planters, 

Who  had  been  summonetl  all  to  the  house  of  Basil  the  Herdsman. 

Merry  the  meeting  was  of  ancient  comrades  and  neighbors : 

Friend  clasped  friend  in  his  arms ;  and  they  who  before  were  as  strangers, 

Meeting  in  exile,  became  straightway  as  friends  to  each  other, 

Drawn  by  the  gentle  bond  of  a  common  country  together. 

But  in  the  neighboring  hall  a  strain  of  music,  proceeding 

From  the  accordant  strings  of  IMichael's  melodious  fiddle. 

Broke  up  all  further  speech.     Away,  like  children  delighted, 

All  things  forgotten  beside,  they  gave  themselves  to  the  maddening 


35 


3^' 


ElANCELINF.. 


Whirl  of  the  iW/./x  •lancc,  as  it  swept  and  swayed  to  the  miisir, 
Drcainlil<e,  with  hcaminjjj  eyes  and  the  rush  of  llulteriiig  j,Mrinents. 


Meanwhile,  apart,  at  the  head  of  the  hall,  the  priest  and  tiu;  herdsman 
Sat,  eon\iTsin«;  together  i)f  past  and  present  and  future  ; 
While  I'^auLii^line  stood  like  one  entranced,  lor  within  her 


Ol 


den  nunio 


ries  rose,  anif  loud  in  the  midst  ot  the 


music 


Meard  shi'  the  sound  of  the  sea,  and  an  irrepressible  sadness 

('ame  o'er  her  heart,  and  unseen  she  stole  forth  into  the  i^arden. 

Beautiful  was  the  niyht.      Bi'hind  the  hhuk  wall  of  the  forest, 

TippiuLi'  its  summit  with  siK'er,  arose'  the  moon.     On  tlu'  rix'er 

Fell  here  and  there  through  the  hranehes  a  tremulous  trlcam  of  the  moonlitj^ht, 

Like  the  sweet  thoughts  of  loxe  on  a  darkened  and  devious  spirit. 

Nearor  and  round  about  her,  the  manifold  llowers  of  the  garden 

Poured  out  their  souls  in  odurs,  that  were  their  prayers  and  eonfessions 

Unto  the  niii'ht,  as  it  went  its  way,  like  a  silent  Carthusian. 

l'"uller  of  frat^rance  than  the\',  and  as  heavy  with  shadows  and  niL»"ht-di'Ws, 

Hunn"  the  heart  of  the  maiden.      The  ealm  and  the  maj^ical  inoonliijht 


to 


late  h( 


il  with  indelinahle  h 


r>eeme(l 

As,  through  the  trarden  t^ate,  and  Ijeneath  the  shade  of  the  oak-trees, 
Passeil  she  alono-  the  path  to  the  edti^e  ot  the  measureless  prairie. 
Silent  it  lay,  with  a  siK'ery  haze  upon  it,  and  lirc-llies 
Cjlcamint^  and  floatinjr  away  in  min^'led  and  infmite  numbers. 
0\er  her  head  the  stars,  the  thoui,dits  of  God  in  the  hea\-ens. 
Shone  on  the  e\es  of  man,  who  had  ceased  to  mar\-el  and  worship, 
Save  when  a  blazint>"  comet  was  seen  on  the  walls  of  that  temple. 
As  if  a  hand  had  appearecl  and  written  upon  them,  "  Upharsin. " 
And  the  soul  of  the  maiden,  between  the  stars  and  the  fire-flies 
Wandered  alone,  and  she  cried,  "  O  (Gabriel  !  O  my  beloved  ! 
Art  thou  so  near  unto  me,  and  yet  I  cannot  behold  thee  ? 
Art  thou  so  near  unto  me.  and  yet  thy  voice  does  not  reach  me  ? 


»   . 


F.yANGELINE. 

Ah  !  how  often  tli)'  Icut  lia\c  trod  this  patli  to  the  prairie! 

Ah  !  how  often  thine  c}cs  have  looked  on  the  woodlands  around  me  ! 

Ah  !  how  often  i)eneath  this  oak,  returninij  from  labor, 

Thou  Iiast  lain  down  to  rest,  and  to  dream  of  nn-  in  thy  slumhers! 

When  shall  these  e)es  behold,  these  arms  hi-  folded  about  thee  ?" 

Loud  and  sudden  and  near  the  note  of  a  whippoorwill  sounded 

Like  a  flute  in  tlu-  woods;  and  anon,  throu;4h  the  nei^hhorinL;  tiiickcts. 

Farther  and  farther  away  it  floated  and  dro|)pe(l  into  silence. 

"  Patience  !"  whispered  the  oaks  from  orai  ular  caxerns  of  darkness  ; 

And,  from  the  moonlit  meadow,  a  sit^h  responded,  "   I'o-moriow  !" 


n 


Bright  rose  the  sun  next  da\'  ;  and  all  the  flowers  of  the  irarden 
Bathed  his  shinini;-  leet  with  their  tears,  and  anointed  his  tresses 
With  the  delicious  halm  that  they  bore  in  their  \'ases  of  crwstal. 
"  Farewell  !  "  said  tlie  jjriest,  as  he  stood  at  the  shadow}-  threshold; 
"  See  th.'it  vou  brin*'-  us  the  Proditjal  Son  from  his  fastinjj-  and  famine, 
And,  too,  the  Foolish  \'irt(in,  who  slejjt  when  the  bridegroom  was  comint;. " 
"  Farewell  !"  answered  the  maiden,  and,  smilint;,  with  Hasi!  descended 
Down  to  the  river's  brink,  where  the  boatmen  already  were  waiting-. 
Thus  be^'innini;-  their  journe\-  with  morning',  and  sunshine,  and  t^ladness, 
SwiftI)'  they  followed  the  tlit^ht  of  him  who  was  s[)ecdin<i^  beft)re  them. 
Blown  b\-  the  blast  of  fate  like  a  dead  leaf  over  the  desert. 
Not  that  da\',  nor  the  next,  nor  yet  the  day  that  succeeded, 
Found  the)'  trace  of  his  course,  in  lake  or  forest  or  ri\-er, 
Nor.  after  many  days,  had  they  found  him  ;  but  xai^ue  and  uncertain 
Rumors  alone  were  their  t^uides  throutih  a  wild  and  desolate  country  ; 
Till,  at  the  little  inn  of  the  Spanish  town  of  Adayes, 
Weary  and  worn,  they  alii^hted,  and  learned  from  the  garrulous  landlord, 
That  on  the  day  before,  with  horses  and  guides  and  companions, 
Gabriel  left  the  village,  and  took  the  road  of  the  prairies. 


V] 


n 


/: 


? 


o 


/ 


A 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


121 


IAS 


Ui 


Sii»™ 


2.2 


I.I 


1^  |2£ 

■Uui. 


Photographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


1 

1.25     1.4   1 1.6 

^ 

6"     

► 

^^ 


\ 


•s? 


N> 


[V 


^\ 


'*^*i\ 

^^^ 

^ 


6^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  145S0 

(716)  872-4503 


38 


EVANGELINE. 


IV. 

Far  in  the  West  there  lies  a  desert  land,  where  the  mountains 
Lift,  through  perpetual  snows,  their  lofty  and  luminous  summits. 
Down  from  their  jagsred,  deep  ravines,  where  the  gorge,  like  a  gateway. 
Opens  a  passage  rude  to  the  wheels  of  the  emigrant's  wagon. 
Westward  the  Oregon  flows  and  the  Walleway  and  Owyhee. 
Eastward,  with  devious  course,  among  the  Wind-river  Mountains, 
Through  the  Sweet-water  Valley  precipitate  leaps  the  Nebraska; 
And  to  the  south,  from  Fontaine-qui-bout  and  the  Spanish  sierras. 
Fretted  with  sands  and  rocks,  and  swept  by  the  wind  of  the  desert. 
Numberless  torrents,  with  ceaseless  sound,  descend  to  the  ocean. 
Like  the  great  chords  of  a  harp,  in  loud  and  solemn  vibrations. 
Spreading  between  these  streams  are  the  wondrous,  beautiful  prairies, 
Billowy  bays  of  grass  ever  rolling  in  shadow  and  sunshine, 
Bright  with  luxuriant  clusters  of  roses  and  purj^le  amorphas. 
Over  them  wantlered  the  buffalo  herds,  and  the  elk  and  the  roebuck  ; 
Over  them  wandered  the  wolves,  and  herds  of  riderless  horses ; 
Fires  that  blast  and  blight,  and  winds  that  are  weary  with  travel  ; 
Over  them  wander  the  scattered  tribes  of  Ishmael's  children. 
Staining  the  desert  with  blood  ;  and  above  their  terrible  war-trails 
Circles  and  sails  aloft,  on  pinions  majestic,  the  vulture, 
Like  the  implacable  soul  of  a  chieftain  slaughtered  in  batde. 
By  invisible  stairs  ascending  and  scaling  the  heavens. 
Here  and  there  rise  smokes  from  the  camps  of  these  savage  marauders  ; 
Here  and  there  rise  groves  from  the  margins  of  swift-running  rivers ; 
And  the  grim,  taciturn  bear,  the  anchorite  monk  of  the  desert, 
Climbs  down  their  dark  ravines  to  dig  for  roots  by  the  brook-side, 
And  over  all  is  the  sky,  the  clear  and  crystalline  heaven, 
Like  the  protecting  hand  of  God  inverted  above  them. 


'Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  the  Ozark  Mountains, 
Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  and  trappers  behind  him."     Pack  39. 


./  \  -       *"  ■■■; 


xj<xf^^/^^y- 


EVANGELINE. 

Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  the  Ozark  Mountains, 
Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  and  trappers  behind  him. 
Day  after  day,  with  their  Indian  jruides,  the  maiden  and  Basil 
Followed  his  flying  steps,  and  thought  each  day  to  o'ertake  him. 
Sometimes  they  saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  the  smoke  of  his  cam|>fire 
Rise  in  the  morning  air  from  the  distant  plain ;  but  at  nightfall. 
When  they  had  reached  the  place,  they  found  only  embers  and  ashes. 
And,  though  their  hearts  were  sad  at  times  and  their  bodies  were  weary, 
Hope  still  guided  them  on,  as  the  magic  Fata  Morgana 
Showed  them  her  lakes  of  light,  that  retreated  and  vanished  before  them. 


39 


Once,  as  they  sat  by  their  evening  fire,  there  silently  entered 
Into  the  little  camp  an  Indian  woman,  whose  features 
Wore  deep  traces  of  sorrow,  and  patience  as  great  as  her  sorrow. 
She  was  a  Shawnee  woman  returning  home  to  her  people. 
From  the  far-off  hunting-grounds  of  the  cruel  Camanches, 
Where  her  Canadian  husband,  a  Courcur-des-Bois,  had  been  murdered. 
Touched  were  their  hearts  at  her  story,  and  warmest  and  friendliest  welcome 
Gave  they,  with  words  of  cheer,  and  she  sat  and  feasted  among  them 
On  the  buffalo-meat  and  the  venison  cooked  on  the  embers. 
But  when  their  meal  was  done,  and  Basil  and  all  his  companions, 
Worn  with  the  long  day's  march  and  the  chase  of  the  deer  and  the  bison, 
Stretched  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  slept  where  the  quivering  fire-light 
Flashed  on  their  swarthy  cheeks,  and  their  forms  wrapped  up  in  their   blan- 
kets. 
Then  at  the  door  of  Evangeline's  tent  she  sat  and  repeated 
Slowly,  with  soft,  low  voice,  and  the  charm  of  her  Indian  accent, 
All  the  tale  of  her  love,  with  its  pleasures,  and  pains,  and  reverses. 
Much  Evangeline  wept  at  the  tale,  and  to  know  that  another 
Hapless  heart  like  her  own  had  loved  and  had  been  disappointed. 
Moved  to  the  depths  of  her  soul  by  pity  and  woman's  compassion, 


40  EVANGELINE. 

Yet  in  her  sorrow  pleased  that  one  who  had  suffered  was  near  her, 

She  in  turn  relatetl  her  love  and  all  its  disasters. 

Mute  with  wonder  the  Shawnee  sat,  and  when  she  had  ended 

Still  was  mute  ;  but  at  length,  as  if  a  mysterious  horror 

Passed  through  her  brain,  she  spake,  and  repeated  the  talc  of  the  Mowis  ; 

Mowis,  the  bridegroom  of  snow,  who  won  and  wedded  a  maiden. 

But,  when  the  morning  came,  arose  and  passed  from  the  wigwam. 

Fading  and  melting  away  and  dissolving  into  the  sunshine. 

Till  she  beheld  him  no  more,  though  she  followed  far  into  the  forest. 

Then,  in  those  sweet,  low  tones,  that  seemed  like  a  weird  incantation. 

Told  she  the  tale  of  the  fair  Lilinau,  who  was  wooed  by  a  phantom. 

That,  through  the  pines  o'er  her  father's  lodge,  in  the  hush  of  the  twilight, 

Breathed  like  the  evening  wind,  and  whispered  love  to  the  maiden. 

Till  she  followed  his  green  and  waving  plume  through  the  forest, 

And  never  more  returned,  nor  was  seen  again  by  her  people. 

Silent  with  wonder  and  strange  surprise,  Evangeline  listened 

To  the  soft  flow  of  her  magical  words,  till  the  region  around  her 

Seemed  like  enchanted  ground,  and  her  swarthy  guest  the  enchantress. 

Slowly  over  the  tops  of  the  Ozark  Mountains  the  moon  rose, 

Lighting  the  little  tent,  and  with  a  mysterious  splendor 

Touching  the  sombre  leaves,  and  embracing  and  filling  the  woodland. 

With  a  delicious  sound  the  brook  rushed  by,  and  the  branches 

Swayed  and  sighed  overhead  in  scarcely  audible  whispers. 

Filled  with  the  thoughts  of  love  was  Evangeline's  heart,  but  a  secret. 

Subtile  sense  crept  in  of  pain  and  indefinite  terror. 

As  the  cold,  poisonous  snake  creeps  into  the  nest  of  the  swallow. 

It  was  no  earthly  fear.     A  breath  from  the  region  of  spirits 

Seemed  to  float  in  the  air  of  night ;  and  she  felt  for  a  moment 

That,  like  the  Indian  maid,  she,  too,  was  pursuing  a  phantom. 

With  this  thought  she  slept,  and  the  fear  and  the  phantom  had  vanished. 


EyANGELINE 


41 


Early  upon  the  morrow  the  march  was  resumed ;  and  the  Shawnee 
Said,  as  they  journeyed  alon^,  "On  the  western  slope  of  these  mountains 
Dwells  in  his  little  villatje  the  Hlack  Rohe  chief  of  the  Mission. 
Much  he  teaches  the  people,  and  tells  them  of  Mary  and  Jesus; 
Loud  lauj^h  their  hearts  with  joy,  and  weep  with  pain,  as  they  hear  him. " 
Then,  with  a  sudden  and  secret  emotion,  Evanjjfeline  answered, 
"  Let  us  jro  to  the  Mission,  for  there  j^^ood  tidinj^s  await  us  !  " 
Thither  they  turned  their  steeds  ;  and  behind  a  spur  of  the  mountains, 
Just  as  the  sun  went  down,  they  heard  a  murmur  of  voices. 
And  in  a  meadow  u^reen  and  broad,  by  the  bank  of  a  river, 
Saw  the  tents  of  the  Christians,  the  tents  of  the  Jecuit  Mission. 
Under  a  towering  oak,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  villai(e. 
Knelt  the  Black  Robe  chief  with  his  children.     A  crucifix  fastened 
High  on  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  overshadowed  by  i^rape-vines, 
Looked  with  its  agonized  face  on  the  multitude  kneeling  beneath  it. 
This  was  their  rural  chapel.     Aloft,  through  the  intricate  arches 
Of  its  aerial  roof,  arose  the  chant  of  their  vespers, 
Mingling  its  notes  with  the  soft  susurrus  and  sighs  of  the  branches. 
Silent,  with  heads  uncovered,  the  travellers,  nearer  approaching. 
Knelt  on  the  swarded  floor,  and  joined  in  the  evening  devotions. 
But  when  the  service  was  done,  and  the  benediction  had  fallen 
Forth  from  the  hands  of  the  priest,  like  seed  from  the  hands  of  the  sower. 
Slowly  the  reverend  man  advanced  to  the  strangers,  and  batle  them 
Welcome ;  and  when  they  replied,  he  smiled  with  benignant  expression. 
Hearing  the  homelike  sounds  of  his  mother-tongue  in  the  forest. 
And,  with  words  of  kindness,  conducted  them  into  his  wigwam. 
There  upon  mats  and  skins  they  reposed,  and  on  cakes  of  the  maize-ear 
Feasted,  and  slaked  their  thirst  from  the  water-gourd  of  the  teacher. 
Soon  was  their  story  told  ;  and  the  priest  with  solemnity  answered  :  — 
"  Not  six  suns  have  risen  and  set  since  Gabriel,  seated 
On  this  mat  by  my  side,  where  now  the  maiden  reposes, 


42 


EVANGELINE. 


Told  me  this  same  sad  tale ;  then  arose  and  continued  his  journey  ! " 

Soft  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  he  spake  with  an  accent  of  kindness ; 

But  on  Evangeline's  heart  fell  his  words  as  in  winter  the  snow-flakes 

Fall  into  some  lone  nest  from  which  the  birds  have  departed. 

"  Far  to  the  north  he  has  gone,"  continued  the  priest ;  "  but  in  autumn, 

When  the  chase  is  done,  will  return  again  to  the  Mission." 

Then  Evangeline  said,  and  her  voice  was  meek  and  submissive, 

"  Let  me  remain  with  thee,  for  my  soul  is  sad  and  afflicted." 

So  seemed  it  wise  and  well  unto  all  ;  and  betimes  on  the  morrow. 

Mounting  his  Mexican  steed,  with  his  Indian  guides  and  companions. 

Homeward  Basil  returned,  and  Evangeline  stayed  at  the  Mission. 


Slowly,  slowly,  slowly  the  days  succeeded  each  other,  — 
Days  and  weeks  and  months  ;  and  the  fields  of  maize  that  were  springing 
Green  from  the  ground  when  a  stranger  she  came,  now  waving  above  her, 
Lifted  their  slender  shafts,  with  leaves  interlacinsf,  and  forming 
Cloisters  for  mend'cant  crows  and  granaries  pillaged  by  squirrels. 
Then  in  the  golden  weather  the  maize  was  husked,  and  the  maidens 
Blushed  at  each  blood-red  ear,  for  that  betokened  a  lover. 
But  at  the  crooked  laughed,  and  called  it  a  thief  in  the  corn-field. 
Even  the  blood-red  ear  to  Evangeline  brought  not  her  lover. 
"  Patience  ! "   the  priest  would    say ;    "  have   faith,   and   thy  prayer  will   be  an- 
swered ! 
Look  at  this  delicate  plant  that  lifts  its  head  from  the  meadow. 
See  how  its  leaves  are  turned  to  the  north,  as  true  as  the  magnet ; 
This  is  the  compass-flower,  that  the  finger  of  God  has  planted 
Here  in  the  houseless  wild,  to  direct  the  traveller's  journey 
Over  the  sea-like,  pathless,  limitless  waste  of  the  desert. 
Such  in  the  soul  of  man  is  faith.     The  blossoms  of  passion. 
Gay  and  luxuriant  flowers,  are  brighter  and  fuller  of  fragrance. 
But  they  beguile  us,  and  lead  us  astray,  and  their  odor  is  deadly. 


EVANGELINE. 
Only  this  humble  plant  can  guide  us  here,  and  hereafter 
Crown  us  with  asphodel  flowers,  that  are  wet  with  the  dews  of  nepenthe." 

So  came  the  autumn,  and  passed,  and  the  winter,  —  yet  Gabriel  came  not ; 
Blossomed  the  opening  spring,  and  the  notes  of  the  robin  and  bluebird 
Sounded  sweet  upon  wold  and  in  wood,  yet  Gabriel  came  not. 
But  on  the  breath  of  the  summer  winds  a  rumor  was  wafted 
Sweeter  than  song  of  bird,  or  hue  or  odor  of  blossom. 
Far  to  the  north  and  east,  it  said,  in  the  Michigan  forests, 
Gabriel  had  his  lodge  by  the  banks  of  the  Saginaw  river. 
And,  with  returning  guides,  that  sought  the  lakes  of  St.  Lawrence, 
Saying  a  sad  farewell,  Evangeline  went  from  the  Mission. 
When  over  weary  ways,  by  long  and  perilous  marches. 
She  had  attained  at  length  the  depths  of  the  Michigan  forests, 
Found  she  the  hunter's  lodge  deserted  and  fallen  to  ruin ! 

Thus  did  the  long  sad  years  glide  on,  and  in  seasons  and  places 
Divers  and  distant  far  was  seen  the  wandering  maiden ;  — 
Now  in  the  Tents  of  Grace  of  the  meek  Moravian  Missions, 
Now  in  the  noisy  camps  and  the  battle-fields  of  the  army. 
Now  in  secluded  hamlets,  in  towns  and  populous  cities. 
Like  a  phantom  she  came,  and  passed  away  unremembered. 
Fair  was  she  and  young,  when  in  hope  began  the  long  journey ; 
Faded  was  she  and  old,  when  in  disappointment  it  ended. 
Each  succeeding  year  stole  something  away  from  her  beauty. 
Leaving  behind  it,  broader  and  deeper,  the  gloom  and  the  shadow. 
Then  there  appeared  and  spread  faint  streaks  of  gray  o'er  her  forehead, 
Dawn  of  another  life,  that  broke  o'er  her  earthly  horizon, 
As  in  the  eastern  sky  the  first  faint  streaks  of  the  morning. 


43 


44 


EVANGELINE. 


V. 

In  that  delightful  land  which  is  washed  by  the  Delaware's  waters, 

Guarding  in  sylvan  shades  the  name  of  Penn  the  apostle, 

Stands  on  the  banks  of  its  beautiful  stream  the  city  he  founded. 

There  all  the  air  is  balm,  and  the  peach  is  the  emblem  of  beauty. 

And  the  streets  still  reecho  the  names  of  the  trees  of  the  forest, 

As  if  they  fain  would  appease  the  Dryads  whose  haunts  they  molested. 

There  from  the  troubled  sea  had  Evangeline  landed,  an  exile, 

Finding  among  the  children  of  Penn  a  home  and  a  country. 

There  old  Rend  Leblanc  had  died ;  and  when  he  departed, 

Saw  at  his  side  only  one  of  all  his  hundred  descendants. 

Something  at  least  there  was  in  the  friendly  streets  of  the  city, 

Something  that  spake  to  her  heart,  and  made  her  no  longer  a  stranger ; 

And  her  ear  was  pleased  with  the  Thee  and  Thou  of  the  Quakers, 

For  it  recalled  the  past,  the  old  Acadian  country. 

Where  all  men  were  equal,  and  all  were  brothers  and  sisters. 

So,  when  the  fruitless  search,  the  disappointed  endeavor. 

Ended,  to  recommence  no  more  upon  earth,  uncomplaining, 

Thither,  as  leaves  to  the  light,  were  turned  her  thoughts  and  her  footsteps. 

As  from  a  mountain's  top  the  rainy  mists  of  the  morning 

Roll  away,  and  afar  we  behold  the  landscape  below  us. 

Sun-illumined,  with  shining  rivers  and  cities  and  hamlets, 

So  fell  the  mists  from  her  mind,  and  she  saw  the  world  far  below  her, 

Dark  no  longer,  but  all  illumined  with  love ;  and  the  pathway 

Which  she  had  climbed  so  far,  lying  smooth  and  fair  in  the  distance. 

Gabriel  was  not  forgotten.     Within  her  heart  was  his  image. 

Clothed  in  the  beauty  of  love  and  youth,  as  last  she  beheld  him, 

Only  more  beautiful  made  by  his  deathlike  silence  and  absence. 

Into  her  thoughts  of  him  time  entered  not,  for  it  was  not. 


EVANGELINE 

Over  him  years  had  no  power  ;  he  was  not  chanjrecl.  hut  transfigured  ; 

He  had  become  to  her  heart  as  one  who  is  dead,  and  not  absent; 

Patience  and  abnegation  of  self,  and  devotion  to  others, 

This  was  the  lesson  a  life  of  trial  and  sorrow  had  taught  her. 

So  was  her  love  diffused,  but,  like  to  some  odorous  spices. 

Suffered  no  waste  nor  loss,  though  filling  the  air  with  aroma. 

Other  hope  had  she  none,  nor  wish  in  life,  but  to  follow 

Meekly,  with  reverent  steps,  the  sacred  feet  of  her  Saviour. 

Thus  many  years  she  lived  as  a  Sister  of  Mercy  ;  frcciuenting 

Lonely  and  wretched  roofs  in  the  crowded  lanes  of  the  city, 

Where  distress  and  want  concealed  themselves  from  the  sunlight. 

Where  disease  and  sorrow  in  garrets  languished  neglected. 

Night  after  night,  when  the  world  was  asleep,  as  the  watchman  repeated 

Loud,  through  the  gusty  streets,  that  all  was  well  in  the  cit)', 

High  at  some  lonely  window  he  saw  the  light  of  her  taper. 

Day  after  day,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  as  slow  through  the  suburbs 

Plodded  the  German  farmer,  with  flowers  and  fruits  for  the  market. 

Met  he  that  meek,  pale  face,  returning  home  from  its  watchincrs. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  that  a  pestilence  fell  on  the  city. 
Presaged  by  wondrous  signs,  and  mostly  by  flocks  of  wild  pigeons. 
Darkening  the  sun  in  their  flight,  with  naught  in  their  craws  but  an  acorn. 
And,  as  the  tides  of  the  sea  arise  in  the  month  of  September, 
Flooding  some  silver  stream,  till  it  spreads  to  a  lake  in  fhe  meadow. 
So  death  flooded  life,  and,  o'erflowing  its  natural  margin, 
Spread  to  a  brackish  lake,  the  silver  stream  of  existence. 
Wealth  had  no  power  to  bribe,  nor  beauty  to  charm,  the  oppressor ; 

But  all  perished  alike  beneath  the  scourge  of  his  anger  ; 

Only,  alas !  the  poor,  who  had  neither  friends  nor  attendants, 

Crept  away  to  die  in  the  almshouse,  home  of  the  homeless. 

Then  in  the  suburbs  it  stood,  in  the  midst  of  meadows  and  woodlands ;  — 


45 


46  EVANGELINE. 

Now  the  city  surrounds  it;  but  still,  with  its  jrateway  and  wicket 

Meek,  in  the  midst  of  splendor,  its  humble  walls  seem  to  echo 

Softly  the  words  of  the  Lord  :  —  "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you." 

Thither,  by  night  and  by  day,  came  the  Sister  of  Mercy.     The  dying 

Looked  up  into  her  face,  and  thought,  indeed,  to  behold  there 

Gleams  of  celestial  light  encircle  her  forehead  with  splendor, 

Such  as  the  artist  paints  o'er  the  brows  of  saints  and  apostles. 

Or  such  as  hangs  by  night  o'er  a  city  seen  at  a  distance. 

Unto  their  eyes  it  seemed  the  lamps  of  the  city  celestial, 

Into  whose  shining  gates  erelong  their  spirits  would  enter. 


Thus,  on  a  Sabbath  morn,  through  the  streets,  deserted  and  silent, 
Wending  her  quiet  way,  she  entered  the  door  of  the  almshouse. 
Sweet  on  the  summer  air  was  the  odor  of  flowers  in  the  garden  ; 
And  she  paused  on  her  way  to  gather  the  fairest  among  them, 
That  the  dying  once  more  might  rejoice  in  their  fragrance  and  beauty. 
Then,  as  she  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  corridors,  cooled  by  the  east  wind. 
Distant  and  soft  on  her  ear  fell  the  chimes  from  the  belfry  of  Christ  Church, 
While,  intermingled  with  these,  across  the  meadows  were  wafted 
Sounds  of  psalms,  that  were  sung  by  the  Swedes  in  their  church  at  Wicaco. 
Soft  as  descending  wings  fell  the  calm  of  the  hour  on  her  spirit ; 
Something  within  her  said,  "  At  length  thy  trials  are  ended  ; " 
And,  with  light  in  her  looks,  she  entered  the  chambers  of  sickness. 
Noiselessly  moved  about  the  assiduous,  careful  attendants. 
Moistening  the  feverish  lip,  and  the  aching  brow,  and  in  silence* 
Closing  the  sightless  eyes  of  the  dead,  and  concealing  their  faces, 
Where  on  their  pallets  they  lay,  like  drifts  of  snow  by  the  roadside. 
Many  a  languid  head,  upraised  as  Evangeline  entered, 
Turned  on  its  pillow  of  pain  to  gaze  while  she  passed,  for  her  presence 
Fell  on  their  hearts  like  a  ray  of  the  sun  on  the  walls  of  a  prison. 
And,  as  she  looked  around,  she  saw  how  Death,  the  consoler, 
Laying  his  hand  upon  many  a  heart,  had  healed  it  forever. 


EVANGELINE. 


47 


Many  familiar  forms  had  disappeared  in  the  night-time  ; 
Vacant  their  places  were,  or  filled  already  by  strangers. 


Suddenly,  as  if  arrested  by  fear  or  a  feeling  of  wonder. 
Still  she  stood,  with  her  colorless  lips  apart,  while  a  shudder 
Ran  through  her  frame,  and,  forgotten,  the  flowerets  dropped  from  her  fingers, 
And  from  her  eyes  and  cheeks  the  light  and  bloom  of  the  mornine. 
Then  there  escaped  from  her  lips  a  cry  of  such  terrible  anguish, 
That  the  dying  heard  it,  and  started  up  from  their  pillows. 
On  the  pallet  before  her  was  stretched  the  form  of  an  old  man. 
Long,  and  thin,  and  gray  were  the  locks  that  shaded  his  temples ; 
But,  as  he  lay  in  the  morning  light,  his  face  for  a  moment 
Seemed  to  assume  once  more  the  forms  of  its  earlier  manhood  • 
So  are  wont  to  be  changed  the  faces  of  those  who  are  dying. 
Hot  and  red  on  his  lips  still  burned  the  flush  of  the  fever, 
As  if  life,  like  the  Hebrew,  with  blood  had  besprinkled  its  portals, 
That  the  Angel  of  Death  might  see  the  sign,  and  pass  over. 
Motionless,  senseless,  dying,  he  lay,  and  his  spirit  exhausted 
Seemed  to  be  sinking  down  through  infinite  depths  in  the  darkness, 
Darkness  of  slumber  and  death,  forever  sinking  and  sinking. 
Then  through  those  realms  of  shade,  in  multiplied  reverberations, 
Heard  he  that  cry  of  pain,  and  through  the  hush  that  succeeded 
Whispered  a  gentle  voice,  in  accents  tender  and  saint-like, 
"  Gabriel !  O  my  beloved  !  "  and  died  away  into  silence. 
Then  he  beheld,  in  a  dream,  once  more  the  home  of  his  childhood  ; 
Green  Acadian  meadows,  with  sylvan  rivers  amone  them. 
Village,  and  mountain,  and  woodlands ;  and,  walking  under  their  shadow. 
As  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  Evangeline  rose  in  his  vision. 
Tears  came  into  his  eyes;  and  as  slowly  he  lifted  his  eyelids, 
Vanished  the  vision  away,  but  Evangeline  knelt  by  his  bedside. 
Vainly  he  strove  to  whisper  her  name,  for  the  accents  unuttered 
Died  on  his  lips,  and  their  motion  revealed  what  his  tongue  would  have  spoken. 


48  EVANGELINE. 

Vainly  he  strove  to  rise;  and  Evangeline,  kneeling  beside  him, 
Kissed  his  dying  lips,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  bosom. 
Sweet  was  the  light  of  his  eyes;  but  it  suddenly  sank  into  darkness, 
As  when  a  lamp  is  blown  out  by  a  gust  of  wind  at  a  casement. 

All  was  ended  now,  the  hope,  and  the  fear,  and  the  sorrow, 
All  the  aching  of  heart,  the  restless,  unsatisfied  longing. 
All  the  dull,  deep  pain,  and  constant  anguish  of  patience ! 
And,  as  she  pressed  once  more  the  lifeless  head  to  her  bosom. 
Meekly  she  bowed  her  own,  and  murmured,  "  Father,  I  thank  thee  !" 


Still  stands  the  forest  priineval  ;  but  far  away  from  its  shadow, 
Side  by  side,  in  their  nameless  graves,  the  lovers  are  sleeping. 
Under  the  humble  walls  of  the  little  Catholic  churchyard. 
In  the  heart  of  the  city,  they  lie,  unknown  and  unnoticed. 
Daily  the  tides  of  life  go  ebbing  and  flowing  beside  them. 
Thousands  of  throbbing  hearts,  where  theirs  are  at  rest  and  forever, 
Thousands  of  aching  brains,  where  theirs  no  longer  are  busy. 
Thousands  of  toiling  hands,  where  theirs  have  ceased  from  their  labors, 
Thousands  of  weary  feet,  where  theirs  have  completed  their  journey  ! 

Still  stands  the  forest  primeval ;  but  under  the  shade  of  its  branches 
Dwells  another  race,  with  other  customs  and  language. 
Only  along  the  shore  of  the  mournful  and  misty  Atlantic 
Linger  a  few  Acadian  peasants,  whose  fathers  from  exile 
Wandered  back  to  their  native  land  to  die  in  its  bosom. 
In  the  fisherman's  cot  the  wheel  and  the  loom  are  still  busy  ; 
Maidens  still  wear  their  Norman  caps  and  their  kirtles  of  homespun, 
And  by  the  evening  fire  repeat  Evangeline's  story, 
While  from  its  rocky  caverns  the  deep-voiced,  neighboring  ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of  the  forest. 


Meekly  ^-hc  bowcil  Ikt  mvn,  aiul  inunmirocl,  '  Father,  I  tliank  thee.'  "     Vvw.  ,s. 


I 


i\ 


